A Voyage Without Waves Poem by Avery Koplin

Yeehaw! I left, or I didn't, no, I never left.
Was it a step? I felt it, didn't I?
No, no, there was no step, only the air,
the breath of something that wasn't mine.
It was me, wasn't it? Me?
No, no, it's the door, the window, the wall, the air,
the map, the map's gone—gone with the footsteps,
why are my hands moving, or are they moving?

Wander, wander far, wait—far from here, but here is—
not here.
Why am I walking but not walking?
I think I've forgotten walking, or did I forget?
(maybe I've forgotten I've forgotten, or forgotten to forget?)
Is it still daylight? But the dark, oh, the dark is—
turning around, or no, no turning, turning is—
I've turned away, or have I? Have I ever turned?
Where am I turning? Where is it?

It's ahead, or no, no, it's under, it's sideways,
sideways under, above the below—yes, under!
Under and between—no, no—no more between,
just empty spaces, empty, hollow, like the sky,
I was moving through it, yes, I was, wasn't I?
But where's the sky? Why isn't it—there?
Is there a sky at all?

There is no road, is there?
The road is a dream, is it? A dream, yes, yes!
The dream, it's bending, it bends with my fingers,
it twists with the sound, the sound, the sound?
What is the sound? The wall is moving,
wait, the sound is the wall, the wall is the sound,
cracked, cracked, all cracked, breathing, breaking,
no more words, no more, no more—
hands, eyes, cracks, hair—
is it hair? Is it... hair...
soft? Hard? Is it—no, no, no—
it's nothing—nothing is—
nothing, not everything, no, no, I— I can't—can't…
no... not anymore... no... (and that's that rodeo, folks!)