Jongleur

It sends a shuddering cool
down the neck,

raises spray
of Niagara, Victoria,
and Angel Falls
far above the roar,
into a rainbow kiss
of sunlight,

wars among
fighting kites,
draws a razor
across the string
until one dragon
flies in a bowl of sky,

grinds desert sand
into every engine gear
then burns through
a hopeless, plodding
distance,

rattles bones
against each other
in a barren
winter orchard:

That which I bring
on the light current
between my lips
and your ear.
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