If drawings rose up

right out of the sea

or descended down

from a canopied sky

How could we catch them,

or see them? or try?

Would they stay long enough

for study and capture?

What would they look like?

this performative rapture

Resembling maps

blueprints, or light?

Would they start and then stop,

or zip out of sight?

Thought-like impressions

with quivery edges

or be made of bricks

making foreverness pledges?

Would they ticker continuous—

and mess with air travel

Would civilization

totally unravel?

Would they bypass time

in order to see

past, present, future

served with crumpets and tea?

Would sights appear

words never could touch,

Would “beyond description”

be asking too much?

So, whether by land or

whether by sea

Just where is somewhere

drawings are meant to be?

And how to get something

from here to there

What is required to

transform mid-air

So what if each tip

of each pencil and pen

had a very small portal

where these drawings

swooped in

Staying forever at rest

at that station

Content to be governed

by imagination

And to see them again

To make visible awe

Somewhere

is just where

one chooses to Draw