Heart Murmurs

i am he:
the cube of ice
on a sizzling stove,
surfing on its own
melting tide.

i am he:
the bear with fat
enough to suck my claws
all hibernating winter,
feeding on my own marrow.

i am he:
the dormouse gone
into my winter quarters
of deep serene thoughts,
unconscious of external circumstances.

i am he:
the divining rod
of finest memory-
its sweet spring coursing
along subterranean streams.

live a starved existence
if your choose, but

i am he:
the hawk that soars
searching the horizon;
my talons poised
to pick up a sparrow
now and then.