Jib

If there is magic
There is magic in motion.

It begins when the land
Becomes a ship and heaves
And trees with gumption, gust:
A hypnotic swaying jib and jab.

Milling in symposition
They tussle and gesticulate.
A Greek forum of freetrees
Endlessly percuss the coming of fate.

Sneeze (i.e. Reflection of a Humored Cynic)

I love the sneeze
The stiff breeze
Blowing consciousness to smithereens.

For a moment I am forced,
to be
In the moment,
not to be
Stuck in the head, in the mind.

My identity becomes uniform
An action signifying singular symmetry-
Indeed the devil ego is released.

I, becomes sneeze:
No fear, no courage, no thought, and
It is becoming.

A singular Peace
A reprieve
Democratically available.

So I stir up the dust
Stare at the sun
Breathe in the pollen.