Attempting the Impossible (collaboration with Tess P)

Perhaps while on a foraging expedition into the landscape of language, we find ourselves sailing along a ribbon of verse that tells a story of the time when words crawled out from piles of sand and slumbering ponds and moved towards the fast-moving water of rivers. We feel it at the ankles, in our hands, as we speed along a breeze that is billowing the sails of our interest, heading toward a waterfall that breaks the world into movement and patterns reminiscent of the places we are headed.

Maybe the moon will someday spin out of orbit and all of the clouds, and rocks, and flying geese will be pulled along, tied to the ribbon of verse that we sang and in that song was the thirst of the moon who with its straw will tug and pull until it has emptied our ocean of memory, saving our dreams for the new wilderness.