among the torn silks of phrase

rivers ever so tireless
shaun sellers

though i am at rest
like a sky-lit jellyfish,
the ocean carries me.
as my heart rests
like a quarter overboard
glinting and snug
in starfish and
oyster's realm
(a leaden wish)
still the shivery
movement
of continental plates
vibrates and
shifts undeterred
by my quietness.

the spinning of
one axis on this
axis and then gravity
and that axis
and what else but constant
spinning spinning of my own
mitochondria and cellular universes
spiraling such
that my own movement
would seem
insignificant.

i have no longing to do
more than revolve,
ponder the moon
and its steady inertia,
powering cycles of
the orphic and the mundane.
imagine what galaxies
or dragonflies
or loved ones would
be profoundly moved by any
subtle hand stretching or
hair brushing on my part.

perhaps it is safer
for all
that i just
rest.
for now i will be carried
like a child through
a museum,
everything unfolding beautifully.