I Sail by Sight

Slimy streamlets of mascara

through the deformed mimic

they are rivers

of a landscape in storm.

Since some time by now,

in these water streams,

I am sailing by sight,

(what else could I do?)

I flow calmly,

at cruise speed,

I run aground sometimes

in low and slow curves,

I carefully avoid the whirlpools.

And from the highest lookout-post,

perched barefoot

in unstable balance,

like on a circus’ tightrope,

I peer into the harbour far away

and the open sea.

November 11, 2003