coast to coast to

***

here i am dreaming:

i am an architect, an immense and grotesque bowerbird nesting in the back of the black car that serves as my surrogate wings. as the crow flies, so the car tracks the curling 1.
one of these titanesses reaches her hands up up into the great yawning sky; one of these demigoddesses stretches her feet down to tread the settled stones. they are pillars speaking to the past, sculptures raw of the present, and sibyls of something coming for me.  i behind them am beach toes and forest fingers ready to serve this new breed of youth and intellect corps.  beauty in modesty, truth in magnanimity; this regimen of women strikingly handsome - imposing in good looks, never for a moment Pretty by Convention.  such an august coast in january!, such sunsets, our silhouettes and strength; our words and wit and wonder; i am nothing but ocean ears and sun eyes and lungs full of unuttered gasps and shouts, and laughter.

i am four days' flight, flight and fight
coast to coast, coast to coast
coast to coast, coast to coast.

***