to ease their impact and recoil as they bounce
over stones,
except when the latex thickens,
becomes too crude, more fat than resin,
and freezes in the sun.
BALANCE
My head has no affinity with my feet.
When I stand on one heel and lean
on my axis spine, I reel to the floor;
I can not turn on a fixed orbit.
My shadow divides me by day and escapes
me at night, a trait apparently made
to confuse me, since I follow a course
without regularity or recurrence, my cosmos
inclined to alternation at moments
evident to no one, not even myself.
Who is reasonable? A tightrope walker,
perhaps, builders of bridges, sailors,
mountain climbers—those whose direction
is indicated by their opposition
and held in a careful equilibrium
like a golden pendulum, its means,
each according to some counter force.
Lacking such moderation, I look for
wisdom in safety, and safety
in wisdom—and dangle between.
A two-legged creature, whose symmetry
goes paired from ear to foot, I find
duality a natural condition; a Chang
and Eng existence united in fact
but separate in fulfillment. Parted,
we die, and together compromise
our right and left, depending which has
the stronger influence. Made as I am,
the wonder is not that I sway or spin,
but manage to stay inside my skin.
SIMPLE WITH COMPASS
Consider the circle.
It is a miracle
of completion,
end and beginning one.
Reduced to a point or
expanded to a sphere,
its ratio
is unchanged by ego.