Leaving the fringe of light at the edge of the leaves, deep then deeper,
the rocking back and forth movement forward through the ever-narrowing circle
that never, in truth, narrowed beyond the bending going in,
not knowing whether a turn or an impasse would lie at the place
where the darkness turned into impenetrability, deep where
no longer could down or up or side to side be known, just the effort
to stay above the water, to keep one spread palm bearing
against the weight and then the other, deeper and deeper.
The way in was easy once it began. The way in was all necessity.
Behind the darkness, more darkness; beneath the water only water.
A great black frayed trash bag lifted by the wind high above the sidewalk,
then just above the roofs, a black shining sail tattered, too big to be flying
and yet, each time it began its descent, lifted, propped up
and stiffened again in a sequence of small swirling movements.
The most oppressive thing,
the most tormenting, a black sun deflated, teasing,
touching the cornices and windows, block after block,
a hovering force, a curse, a smear.
The farther it rose in the distance, the larger it seemed to loom.
The mind wants an object and then recoils at what it has done.
The mind wants an object and then recoils at what it has done.
The farther it rose in the distance, the larger it seemed to loom.
A hovering force, a curse, a smear,
touching the cornices and windows, block after block,
the most tormenting, a black sun deflated, teasing,
the most oppressive thing
and stiffened again in a sequence of small swirling movements
and yet, each time it began its descent, lifted, propped up
then just above the roofs, a black shining sail tattered, too big to be flying.
A great black frayed trash bag lifted by the wind high above the sidewalk.
Behind the darkness, more darkness; beneath the water only water.
The way in was easy once it began. The way in was all necessity
against the weight and then the other, deeper and deeper
to stay above the water, to keep one spread palm bearing
no longer could up or down or side to side be known, just the effort
where the darkness turned into impenetrability, deep where
not knowing whether a turn or an impasse would lie at the place
that never, in truth, narrowed beyond the bending going in,
the rocking back and forth movement forward through the ever-narrowing circle.
Leaving the fringe of light at the edge of the leaves, deep then deeper.