Flying Over The Over
2003

Flying over the ground, looking over the sky, listening for an unhearable sound.

Flying over the grass, feeling the heat on the skin bright like the sun as walking swiftly.

Flying over the flowers, looking carefully for a sigh, wind whispering to the ear waving a hand with no hands.

Flying over the trees, water dripping from the leaf, listening for an unexhausted voice.

Flying over the houses, squeaking in the attic, sleeping on top of another as if resting in the light.

Flying over the tall buildings, sleeping less as the sun rising, setting and walking quietly.

Flying over the birds, waking day and night as days going.

Flying over the clouds, quiet like dawn as following the helicopters not quiet at all quiet.

Flying over the aeroplanes, creating the lights as bright as sunlight, travelling in time towards today, yesterday and tomorrow.

Flying over the earth, quiet as a satellite making sound as quiet as possible.

Flying over the moon, looking for a question in a silenced darkness with the lights from all over the place.

Flying over the sun, aching with the heat in the eyes, questioning the incomprehensible question, forming an unimpossible silence.

Flying over the over, waiting for the day and the night going about it again, listening for a silenceless sound.