Wind blows over the empty fields.
The days are very quiet and long and hot under a February sun.
I have cut my tethers.
I am drifting farther and farther away from what I once knew.
I feel like a transparent thing.
I am unfamiliar to myself.
i am made of sand
i am made of paper
i am made of glass
i am made of water
and the sea has taken him
the one i might have been
and given me what i am
Demeter has had her way.
and now across these gates
a constellation
the bow-man row me away
on the black-cloak horizon
weeping on wings of wind
widows walk
they said this landscape was built by men
and my dark ships departed
now the tattered sails wash up
and i paint the canvas with blood
always thought (in my youth) ...
the mirror says death is a lover
the sea from which i came
reminds me what i am
made in her name
i am of the wind
i am of the waves
i am of the unseen
i am of the other
6 minutes 10 seconds
audio recording
El Galope Retreat
Colonia, Uruguay
February 2016