Evan on Ice

This guy runs, marches
across a ceaseless salt
flat. Tracing the tracks
of the earth's curve.
Blue pants, white salt
white shirt, blue sky.

There are only two
movements and the mountains
sky, salt and clouds
make this clear.
The dash in the air of his march.
The diagonal in the stare of her lens.

What planet swell,
what arctic tundra
in a t-shirt is there
for life to paint its
dirty action on?

I want opaque atmospheres
of ancient stillness
under animal action blood.

Define my movement.

I want a pallet of pure salt flat
to force my form
into a black shadow,
flat on ice.

The earth tilts
for the runner
and the artist
tilts for the earth

and all the blue sky
just deepens dark until
space is white sand again,
or black shadows crammed create
some certain white gaps in glow
where planets light camps across
their lands and lakes and

big city kids just jump
at white t-shirt tundra
and blue jean blue sky.