The old serpent striking:
the desperate one,
the spirit who knows those watching me —
look in the rear-view mirror;
over your shoulder like nostalgia,
no, not behind you, inside
out of reach. Rise
to the maker when you kill creation too.
Look down: cliff coast
and a white crest current during
the only moment that’s mattered.
Let go, feel the fall for awhile
and forget the reason; feeling the nothing at all,
you continue to change and be the same,
and that is the only ache in the world.
– Oakland, CA