Projection 1 – tropic-running

Crest-skimming,
froth and stealth
moment below,
hollows of the swell withdrawing
and the climb
of the wave to touch
through, rising
to feel the warmth
of salt-spray and salt-fume,
from the blue rhythms
and white caresses
moving in lines,
as the speed climbs and
the angle
towards the shore

Swift rise of the blank sand
and in through the breathy
closeness of creeper-ed trunk,
weaving now a myriad-path,
then a glade, a chance to soar
above the high branches and the
roof canopy, the frantic
alarms of the monkeys,
stench of simian and fur, trushing
past a scatter of parrots,
in cranking wing
and brandished eyes,
back up into the glare,
to see the green-scape
lap at the sides of azure
and blue hills, and turn
to feel them above and the sky below, and back flat
to around the rise of mountains
flecked with snow, then climbing
upright
up vacant rock, smooth
passing in vertical stream

Now flat-flying through
glacier’s fissures beneath
faint bridges of blue,
taking the sudden, mind-scraped
ridge and sliding through the new-opened
air, down and down, twisting to burst
through the up-currents and to flow
and skate through rushing streams,
joining one to another
till the murk and slowness of the bare
river slides underfoot beneath
the banks of hanging
vines, where sleekness
rush in vain to catch
with gleam and teeth

Bounce up off the leaping
edge of waterfall, spiral
through the curtain-flurry,
fall and dove into
thunder-pool and somersault
and run from rock to rock
and breast out through
the crystal edge
and sudden-dry
from chrysalis
into the
blaze
of new sun,
so far
so far away,
so spinning
light-spun