by Ruta Kuzmickas

“da cosa nasce cosa.” –Bruno Munari

I walked all this way to find you.

when I got there,
I found nothing
and was met
with nothing but
a rush of blood

straight to my head,
and the hypnotic calm
of wind as I stood still
to catch my breath.

I traveled all this way
to find you.

when I found nothing
I transposed you.

da cosa
nasce cosa.

when my breath
fell off its edge,
the wind

carried.

it asked to be
molecular
celular

planetary,

creased into
white sea foam,

tiny sputtering layer
of small yesterdays

ieri diventa
domani

milky egg
white water’s
shadow

cold like fire
is cold.

I transposed myself
to find you.

I creased
myself into the
wind.

I found nothing

but an atmosphere
of wide and gilded
interim,

intanto