“The Package”


Arctic winds swept my body under a pyramid of ice
showered it with gold, its forehead decorated
with diamonds – covered the walls
with the script of first sowings – verses included steered sails of soul
high above the dome, with the flow of current affairs, urgent
digging in the sun, ironically
with eternal journey’s claw

They buttoned me up to my neck, anchored their azure shawl at my feet
forming a neat package of eptitude – temporal armament of grace
which now ready to travel the stars was resting on a platform
of half-truths, false reports from space
waiting for the signal for flight, compressed like a hero’s bow
bent in a boomerang toy
stripped of spiritual antics, compiled, quiet
ready for take-off & weightless

The countdown has begun – the bodily pile twitched one last time
digested with engines’ breath – slick paper shells
hiding the nut of oblivion
snacked on shortly before death
plundered, in fanfare carried – swiftly into night’s barrenness
the commonplace of average persons
gawking at their ruddy slice

We all have to bite in – scanning our plate for a photoflash of
ventilation – the air that’s everywhere, air
on which we could constantly drift, younger and heavier
like bread stuffed pigeons – dropping our package
on the fertile land of dawn
a bigger, broader luggage
collected, squandered & found
we want more of us here – wherever we plant
idiotic uncertain steps – treading dead, de-weeded

My package doesn’t weigh – it orbits around larger,
hotter suns – it went along there with the glacier
under which I got stuck for a while – a piece of man’s history
escaped my eyes:
in a fragment of the lens I threw
dusk on the quiet hills, where a lonely, weary wanderer
received his tablets

I lifted off
with the nut of knowledge on my chest – with a diamond & dust of stars
my body threw its weight
only where of such seed
another corporeality makes use

Copyright © 2012 by A.J. Kaufmann. All rights reserved.