wEstSCAPES
To live on the edge of a continent is to understand
the finite property of things delicious
anxiety
fear of falling optional suicide measures B jump
into cold bluewater submerge float out
to sea
Inland
the thick of people things a
constant distraction
no oceans to dream beyond no balancing
on perilous cliffs no
hypothesis of death Faces
stare out of windows envisioning perhaps a mountaintop
the slow
smooth glide through air the soundless parting
of waves Here where a continent rises
and falls
the possibilities for disaster are endless:
an earthquake east and west fault lines or a tsunami
monster quenching
its thirst in
swallowing the
steeping the mountainside in mud
a steady flow to the sea
To balance on the outer edge is to accept paradox
equilibrium a faint horizon between
impulse and rationale
We erect amulets: THIS IS A NUCLEAR-
in the shadow of US destroyers which slice intermittent
the
depths of the harbour point to the words hold up
banners bob on small lifeboats in the path
of steel
no more effective than one small man in
waving his shopping bags to stop an army
To live on the edge of a
continent is to have both
a clarity of vision and an unshaken belief in myth:
how in semi-darkness totems stalk us
carved eagles fly
frogs swim the water of the eye and bear claws
scratch tremors in the spine or how the downtown
city
face is a thin mantle crust beneath which
arteries pulse with spice and opium cards knife
blades plunging
into the centre of the earth
or how we ski in morning light and swim in afternoon
the impulse for the edge is a magnetic field
insul/isolation
and we create a story: this is the last
chance for utopia, a new frontier