swim

I write a lot of poems about swimming, it occurs to me. In fact, I'd say I write poems about swimming more often than I actually swim, these days. I read this one tonight as part of Behind the Kiln #8, an improv music and dance night at the delightful Artword Artbar, where Jennifer Lockman and I had the privilege of accompanying legendary Canadian artists and improv pioneers Nobuo Kubota and Eugene Martynec. So if you'll pardon the brag, I thought I should post about it. What a great night!

Oh--and if you like this poem, it's available, along with many many more, in my most recent book, Closer to the Sky.

swim

we swim
and the sand drops away beneath us
we trust that water will do what water does:
will hold us up
rock us
wash us clean
and finally remind us
we are water, each ourselves.

arm over arm over wave
over shipwrecked grave
where the faithless
and the leaden equally lie
sunk to the bottom
those unfortunate fortunate
dragged to the depths
by pockets full of gold.

our treasures are always
our torments.

our secrets are always
just unfulfilled hopes.

our dissatisfied pockets
are always lined with gold.

we swim
and the sky is an ocean of dreams
smiling down on us every one
waiting for us to learn
to put our faith in the wind.

when we finally line our pockets
with a joyful nothing at all
we will swim
(like birds,
waving empty hands)
up into the ocean of dreams.