On the Sense of Accomplishment

In contrast

to the world

In contrast

to the sea and the sky

I stand here

Legs parted

Moth flame tickled sunrise

And my mouth tickled

I laugh

And tame the day

Silenced by its prospects.

They say,

I invented with the world with my eye

I painted the ocean on the sky

I bled the earth of its leaves.

And I am certainly tired

And like a dying horse

Stab the air of this last season.