The First Time On The Pacific

just eighteen.

my nerves were adjusted.
not only the speed
but the direction.
the pattern of rush
lifted from stars and space,
the place between planets and each
other.

is it black? what does it hold?

the place we can’t see,
cannot
understand.

but we feel it.

it shoots the currents – hard –
and we know little about how to
do anything but feel and accept.

there is, though, a counter feeling
that wants to do something with it:
make something
act something
design something.

pulsing in the head.
beginning.

but it leaves the mind
cause it has no sense to feel.
going through each cell
like sap through a tree
and, the extreme, the sap pulses
the membranes and leaves
behind the feeling of the
touch.

leaves behind.

this touch. notched.

so move these words
on this page
replace the white with black lines
so we may capture what it is,
to name it, Ha,
the first time on the pacific.