You can't contain the wind

no way

we are all trying our darnedest
we are all feeling like shouting
into the wild tundra listen
up make change now fools!
aren't you? I know I am
grasping at it, trying to
find the right sized 
box or baggie 
but you can't 
contain 
the 
wind.

I am holding onto something
I can feel it -- it might be
hardened lava it might 
be a slice of thunder --
I feel it so jagged so
mean it lives under
my breastbone but
I know that it 
isn't the wind.

I've tried myself to launch
into the air to let go 
and dissolve into 
the ether itself --
I wanted to be
free of me of
all this shit to
unhinge the
swing 

but wind refuses 
to be dictated to 
be directed to
be assuaged or
even entered into
-- I am not what it
is -- even tornado
disregards the idea
of you and me and 
torments its way 
through corridors
of dreams as if we
are as invisible
as it really is.

You can come with me along
Iowa I-80 and try to count
Turbines whoo-omping
In profound amplitude 
Against a cerulean day.
You can't count them
At 76 mph while they
Collect scraps of air
To make our
iPads glow.

maybe a new
wing will pass us
on a county bi-way
170 feet crawling along
on flatbed, one spiffy giant
measured itself against 
kernels of chewy ethanol
sweating into the sky
by and by, the wind
puffs mindlessly
hah. hah. it
refuses to
relieve a
hot day
for you
or me

what wind
is this to
be had
be here
not
here
whipping us  
or not 
but to
move
a seed
start
a tree
bury
a town
smash
a wave 
you
can't
be
it 
I'm
not
no 
way
to
pin it
own it
shoot it down.