the perilous ground is a bottomless ocean
Beckoning distant ships to shore
Like lovers who speak different languages.
And that sea becomes a sea compounded
The dark abyss melts into a blinding cosmos
And you can see the blood
and the ventricles and the arteries of us.
To the pattern. The repetition.
The houses at attention
The illusion of neighborhoods quiet
Tension does not live here
Like it does in all things
And it hushes the houses
Quiets the coyotes
While the moon watches.
On the smell of a frozen lake
A lake you’ve never skated before
You think about this lake when you
Drift into the unconscious
A subconscious that you move in
You swim through
as you fling ink at paper
hoping it sticks
Is the pattern transferable?
You think of starting with the big picture.