helens hood rainier adams all cued in jagged succession
and here below only thanks to the
clear thin winter permanence that is this flight ceiling.
it is a classic ansel gelatin. black brindle puncturing
skin perfect white and patterned by rises and falls and
a single source spotlight. the untouchable texture is palpable.
black moloka'i shards nested in shifting sands. i hover
just above my hands and navigate their peaks with
the swingset slight of the waves. feeling sharpness with thought.
there is nothing of the void between us but the void is.
it is water still it is air still. galaxies and atoms are
mostly nothing either but we found them and named them.
we found them with magic. the magic of light focused
as vertical streams of fire the very fire that once birthed these
dormant for now family of four. peaks.
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