I’m an old fish the sea threw out. This is the speech of my hands in the sea. I’m leaving the permacrust, I’m fleeing the iron rice bowl. You won’t stop me. Already there are breezes everywhere, little fish unzip the sea. I’m getting there in a coracle mine’s a huge half coconut carries me over the South China soup, up steep sides of a rainbow. My head’s half filled with sky now blue stretches, transparent moons. At night it’s a pit of stars and the wind towers in. I get to be a mountain then, stuck in a salty old sea. They bend their voices down – the planets, big and mile high in the thatchless sky. KK next>

this is the speech of my hands poetry by Christopher (Kit) Kelen and Steven Schroeder | images by Kit Kelen