words and images by shaun lawton
Dipping the paddle of an oar into the waters of life
will direct the course taken going forward
when the sculling is a letter and the oar a sort of mail
then you trace the feather of a bird line by line
one at a time on a blank page and sign it
with your name (not upon the dotted line)
but just right there on the empty page
you control the direction and flow your life takes.
It's a sort of loco motion analytical devotion
in proximity to the inanimate enemy
ready to instigate any second guessing
as best as the next one that is if you ever
make it back to shore where the waters
of your other life direct the sequence undergone
to continue roving forward in a straight line.
Nothing can parallel your own foot
becoming a common postal service item
and with the lining of an avian coat of armor
piecemeal assembling itself on the white sheet
upon which the new signature may be applied
onto the marginal cloudscape developing
as the parallax of our remaining event horizon
helps keep it fixed in perpetual proximity just out of reach.