Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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Dwelling on a thought that begins again
Coming back to where I began. This page
Is a state of rest, a dying age escaping me
Across this digital frame above a buffeted
Caribbean of clouds, floating amphibian
Cuba our pivot, comfortable on land or sea.
His fancy shoe leather ever alert while
White plumed Egrets poke for parasites
Having flown in through a blue window
Promising heaven or hell, they can be seen
To make a return worrying about forms
Of discursiveness. I am an hour in or out
From the tail of this lounging crocodile
Cyclonic systems circling below speeding
Us still higher, religious revivals of hope
Before the storm, trading their one hope
For less hopeless hopes, patches of blue
Water midst cumulus billow signs, Che,
Of better weather. Waiting for the money
Learning now not to continue in the same
Expecting a different result. We’ve turned
Turning in air in line with the field against
The wind, the sun dazzling and dizzying.

c) Jan G. Otterstrom F. October 8, 2004
La Habana, Cuba