O.XI

I was cast out to wander
hermit bound in metaphor
of place, not my own
nor in myself, existential
gravity warps my heart
to sound a longing of
adrift, in this discursive space
heavy with toil, incomplete
utility, kept from, separated
in urges, by a fence of absence
waiting for messengers sent for me.

c) Jan G. Otterstrom F.
    June 17, 2011
    Over Costa Rica