Leaps of fath are determinate
land breakers that send my
sights into motion. A decision I make
when I feel life in your hands
is boundless but stagnant in sudden flight, imagination,
foot stomping on the floor of a bar.
I meet people and am trying to bridge that gap.
Right now I have broken past
that weekly orchestration that I am used to now:
Drummers who lead a march
through Defensa Avenue, accross the entirity
of the San Telmo market.
The gathering of drummers is a ritualistic dancing past,
a solidification of something that already is,
a presence that is more perminant than the surfaces of stationed vendors
since the drummers are moving at the pace
of the mulling crowd.