Ars Poetica: A Cento

Over there, says the wind a sail ready to depart with my little joy four centuries of dawn casting themselves into the landscape my plainest song Let it be a duel of music in the air to open my arms to nothing rolling in a blue without ships, without port something like a world paused in its history In each dawn we will dissolve together and collapse in echoes across the earth and all the stars will come down singing There is so much sea swimming in my stars Only leave me as I am, ringing