STEVEN JAMES SANTRONI / 2 POEMS

lightness

times,     idle            as

a    shoreline.    times,

the   warmest    waves

coaxing    a     swim --

ribboned    come    up,

hands    clearing    the

surface;    the      eyes-

exhaled  as   lightness.

three randomly selected stanzas from
this never-ending poem

they saw themselves as pinwheels,
stuck shiny and full lunged for
each other.
oh,
you little fumbling oblivious miracles
you lonely shapes
  you strokes of luck-
go on, spin.


which is the illusion-
the artist
the sailing stone
the line cook untying their apron at 3am.


it seems we are only truly
free when our eyes roll into
the back of our head-
either way.