Thoughts Tied to Kites

Thoughts Tied to Kites

Smoke from my pipe

Sensually strands the ceiling

Playing at the corners

Before dissipating into night.

It lifted as do prayers

Or thoughts tied to kites

Pushing higher

Deeper

Into the veil

Transmitting new takes

On old cosmologies

Or keener expectations

Bound to ancient language.

How might I couple

This ascendancy?

I will secret myself into

The bowl

Become one with the leaves

Invite the flame into

My biology

And lift with the smoke

To caress the ceiling’s quarter round

And with it

Disappear with night's shade

Seeking new landings

Onto old worlds.