Into the Wind

                    Love, enter my eyes with your skies.
                    Neruda

It’s time, it’s time
for me to be a
trapeze artist,
to kick my heels
into the wind,
like hawk's ascending

endless, reckless;
it’s time, it’s time.

A thief or mystic,
I’ll sip champagne
on fiery wire,
inspired in bursts of
poetic motif,
sparkling and bright,

endless, reckless;
it’s time, it’s time.

My tongue will sing
your songs, your name
with lips bewitched;
new sight, new pitch,
a random moan,
I'll float and soar

endless, reckless;
it’s time, it’s time.