Whilst I was here with you and living on the other side of the world...

I am unsure
how many languages I spoke
and what algorithmic cycle
under 5, 8 and 13
I revolved around

English to touch
the old fallows
of Chaucer and
the mapa mundi of seamonsters

speaking and stretching my arms
underwater
talking in the seafarer's currents
that drowned sailors only know
like the keys they carry

Spanish, with an embarrassed foil
enough to walk by promenade
port and plaza de armas,
less the concrete quality
of those who work
and transact a living with
the persistent whitecollared
clerks and managers

close enough to read
newspapers as poetry
and poetry as prosaic newspapers
the crooked cinema of 
otherness 
as otherness
and the bruised dreams
left sleeping by English

Mathemata, an open
algebra where integral 
consistencies internal
were decentered
where equations 
muttered like Rimbaud
J'suis l'autre

and nominally it was a base 5
and the hub to the spheres as 
sprawled spectrum
penta to pata

a genetic Patagonian
a phantom vault
without horses
ancient megafauna as
morphogenesis
an inheritance of invisibility
where a matriarch's thoughts
by magic, eventuate after 
one moon's passing

and the language that crossed
the world, linked cells
reproducing old worlds
capturing with leaped hands
the promise of constants
and the hypnosis of faultlines
as I looked into chasms
to say

the abyss itself is a world
but not one meant for humans
without wings.

I made those wings and 
there was a ground to the fathomless
there was no light
yet in the melee between
myself and the civlized world
a purple torch appeared
and I saw nothing but ground
and a long flight back to the earth's
surface, back to the ravines and horizons
where all there is, is light
and where the abyss afforded
me rest 

and I smiled
not fearing creature
nor monster in any moon's passing.