Corrected

I begin with the vision of ships at anchor
But it doesn’t fit
It’s in the wrong dialect
For a moment it intrudes in the city
Sea water washing in
The citizens stop where they are
Stare
I’m summoned
And the event is stored
Kept hidden away for another day’s abstract
Nothing is translating
Rather things inward are coming out
It’s a curious exchange
Perhaps one day I will be made up of things from the outside
And everything that is me will be out in the wild
Creatures walking the streets at night
Along the shore during the day
Gaia and all that about returning spirits
Perhaps it’s true of the individual
My ghosts leave in many forms
Come back to me changed and evolved
I like it
I like being made this way
As if I have nothing at all to do with my life