While walking, my legs crossing the Brooklyn
Bridge, my eyes, looking forward now, travel
Over mountain rock and Pacific swell
Faster than high planes parting island clouds.
Excitement breaks me from these slowing crowds,
And briefly forgetting how perilous
Roads are---one painted me a bloody mess!---
I soar ahead timeless, reckless, alone.
How many miles can one corridor run?
Fear should not reside inside a father!
Letters exiled like Caravaggio...
Having twice built this raft to free my son
>From this haunted Tahiti, I smother
My rage. I tell him we don't have to go.