I remember one glorious time
I had no questions
about anything at all.
The moon was a condor I needed to snare
and I knew I would fall off the mountain
as I did. And I knew that as I fell
the mountain would change into water,
a great wave in the Pacific tumbling me
into the sea-bed. I knew that the sea-bed
would refuse me and thrust me high
into the air, higher even than the wave
that first tucked me into it, and that
there would appear at that moment a truer condor
to forgive me, catch me up in mid air
and carry me back to the mountains
as if nothing had ever happened.
I did not question then that fantastic things
were happening around me;
how is it
that I have forgotten
how to do that?
Dark Matter 
April 26th, 2013 at 3:40 pm
Forgotten “how”
or
Forgotten “to do” that?
Like your use of thrusting high and tucking in.
And of Condors themselves.
Makes for a poem full of energy and power.
April 26th, 2013 at 4:20 pm
Definitely in this case, “forgotten how.” Good question though.
Appreciate the appreciation. Thank you.