Hail the latter-day Columbus, mastering the angles
for the voyage. And as quick as the pencil turns,
darting through solution after wave,
as peerless thought glides in and wills
a course, destiny and destination
are somewhat intertwined. We admit,
at least in the mind, that daydreams
belong to those inclined to dream
more so than those whose years
have greater certainty, guaranteed
without life’s need for uncharted hope.
Look how before life’s film embroiders
dust from silent motes, a passenger
beside you speaks darkly of glittering days,
devout tomorrows already knowing
ending and plot, her laugh shutters into the wind.

Old dances, new dancers

Pirouetting towards greatness really
is a kind of dance if that’s how you see
shifting one leg over the other
splashing a scarf-tail over the shoulder
performing with well-rehearsed contempt.

In fact it’s the dance where performers
flaunt their pasted scowls as smiles
grown in the coldest months like
vine-reared tomatoes born
for the acidic majesty of their bite.

Eventually tributes will pour in from
the footlights, column inches admiring
the devotion of others glaring upwards
a soiree tossed and sipped success
a life reworked for gaping crowds.

Peak over the curtain because if this
is just a dance, a game, a ploy
for the conquering its players seem
unaware. Laughing, the curtain drops
as they disappear beneath applause.