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Trinity Pass, I. Swoop
04:32
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My heart falls with you
As you make your daredevil drop
From nest to ground.
It all happens too fast to calculate.
Unknown to me,
I must believe you will die.
In that division of the secondhand
Lost now in the flight path
Away from the point of impact,
I must believe you will not save yourself.
Why else lose breath?
Why else step backwards
To make room for a tragic end?
Once balance is regained,
I marvel in the beauty of your swoop,
Admire the steadfast attention to your young
As you circle, dipping from branch to branch,
Singing nervously, as if that will make me behave,
Keep me from the ruin of your home.
As it is, I am little threat,
But how would you know?
In that precipitous drop
Do you know the angle of escape by heart?
Or is it an improvisation,
A brilliant misdirection
Fueled by panic,
Tempered by pure aeronautic talent?
I want to reassure you,
Let you know I mean no harm.
But you do not listen,
You circle and sing,
Circle and sing.
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Trinity Pass, II. Broom
02:55
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The tool is temporary –
Disappears with use,
Loses itself to earth,
Clears.
The surface is temporary, too –
Erodes with time,
Surrenders to water,
Holds.
The man is foolish –
Shrinks with age,
Aligns with fire,
Dreams.
He is the sweeper of the forest floor
But there is no clearing,
Only a momentary parting
Of the canopy’s afterthoughts,
Enough to see what falls next:
Petal to leaf to seed to nut,
Snow to ice to fallen branch –
Only the rain cleanses,
Only the rain sweeps, too.
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a chain of tiny agreements
holds us together
released when those
fragile bonds give way
all is air
there is no effort in descent
but there are no clear paths either
freefall
updraft
turn
spin
new resting place, caught,
who has me now?
who holds my changing form
until the next searching breeze
sets me free?
hundreds of upside down umbrellas
perched on as many branches –
whoever thought that trees
only held their own?
perhaps the solitary copper beech
stays pure
the rest of us play catch
the parts of myself i discard
you keep longer than i know
the leaves of you i gather
i won’t let go
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Look up – see where there is still sky.
Soon the forest will converge
On all that blue,
Trading the sun high branches for grass.
Years ago a clearing was made,
A neat oval drawn with compass-like precision
Around a barn,
Trees cleared, grass seeded,
Human claim in modest form.
The trees stood at attention,
Eager for their new assignment,
Guarding the clearing,
Standing in definition,
Making place.
Now they bend, the oval closing –
Not from below but from above,
A heliotropic dance:
Hundreds of arms, decked with leaves
Stretch to find the light,
Inch by inch they yearn for discovery,
Year by year they move closer.
Like a circle of Matisse dancers,
They are seen with multiple foregrounds
And in every season,
Still nearer, still in seeming motion,
Fueled by longing,
Time on their side.
And so love of light
Creates its scarcity.
So love of one another
Diminishes freedom.
We grow in our longing
Still closer,
Still reaching,
Ever more tightly knit,
Always longing to touch,
Aching to trade the space between
For communion.
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Thomas Cabaniss New York, New York
Thomas Cabaniss, Michael Shinn, and Jessica Chow Shinn have been collaborating since 2011.
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