It is always there, next to your skin, if you look on it that way



a system, a catalogue or register

of all we carry; an expression

accounting for all that is connoted in

all we would say, an off-beat

& wondrous fragment, stepping

between actions with all the force

of a noun, breaking into

waves & furrows, into

dreams, shades & concepts,

an offering, a caution, the last

of the water, our name

for the end of days



an emergence & descent

inhering birth yet odourless,

a redaction of original histories

completing a cycle, having caused

to begin, therefore

beginning, a correlation

of various accounts written

to serve so many purposes

so many feelings, a winning back

of all that was lost, an irony

of the body, an arrival



a great expanse, a main area,

the mass of it surrounding

quantities of anything: love,

cement, marshes, flesh, the scent

of its vast movement in

a breeze, the subtle differences

as in did you touch it? see it?

infinite of turning, from the surface

inwards, from the front

to the back, abstruse, of

all colours mostly darkness