Wind: Words: Eyeshot.

• Author: Susko, Mario
• Position: Poem

Wind: Words: Eyeshot whatever is left to be said, if it is, will ultimately make no difference: a wind direction is of little, or no help, to a flightless bird, one's sense of belonging illusional if words flowed into the winds. I trudged on, trying, sometimes almost comically, to keep my balance and not be swept off the page, my eyes blinded by a flash of sound that emptied the mind of words and filled my open mouth with sand. the last line is within eyeshot, following it the hand goes mute, the wind turns the sheet, and another, and history begins its meandering flight. Wait for me, Wait for me, the...