SPLIT SCREEN

The sky is a good enough place to start.
I have kept careful notes on all this, but of course,
they will be blurred by sea-salt, the bleeding ink creating
misreading after misreading that will be passed down over
generations, so what's the difference?
I know I live right now in a wild fear of the cavern,
the coffin, the closed lid. Now in the end all I wish is for those two edges to meet, to complete their seam.
I rush my prow toward the horizon, toward the split-screen,
where on one hand I am offered a Viking funeral
and on the other my younger self receivesa visitation by Christopher Columbus, who tells me
to seize the dream, ignore the maps, to turn the dinner fork into a divining rod, pointing the way across an open sea.

It is the posture of the forlorn, the hopeful,
the doomed and the loving all in one. Now watch.
Even as the mist grows deeper. This is the best part...