Walking Poem (for Don Gill)

You look into the magic ground before each step and feel
your grounding cord trailing behind you a tail anchoring
you to earth as you shift your gaze to see those parts of
the world you were prevented from glimpsing by the
laws of sitting still in thought as you circle cinematically
in motion these virtual plains of the eyes and your own
cellular history there on the pavement or gravel before
you maybe grass though not water and the way it flows in
comfort not regret the easiest way but this can be difficult
the resistance of walking through choice though not
always in control of the recording especially the adverb
of each step as a past event or even remembering from
where you've come needing that and not some other
system of positioning your own taste for the global and
for this fortress of solitude that ambles an imperfect
clock sweeping your music of thinking head down in a
pilgrimage of archival thread.