When you're old and creaky
and never learned to swim
it could be good to get to run
in water deep
treading where
no bottom's touched
no guarantee of calm
no immunity from sudden cough
or some wrong breath.
That black water holds one up
is no more mystery than light
no more doubtful miracle
than waves from
chancy stars can
carry clearly imaged portraits
and crisp record beats
of cheeky rolling rock
royalty would rattle to.
If it's good air's you gasp
there's no need to touch
as one learns to accept
but never
understand
no beginnings and no ends
and creation's the sole force
why nothing's ever lost.
Nothing's ever really
turtles all the way down
they're all and everything
and swim through around
every slit
double quick
and nowhere fast all the way
up and every one filled
with the same shifting stacks
twisting in and twisting out
spinning spins entangled
reflecting holographic wholes
creating new non boundaries
between new wavers
and what waves
and you might wave
to everyone
on your third wave down
beatituding
and sputtering.
Deep again.
