Water into which all dwells falls,
Spaulding Gray, vanity helicopter,
strip this brick like it was fission.
You alone grok my demiurge.
Vagrant heart, don’t you love your mother?
Won’t you let her choke you out?
Yes, I think, her knee in my chest
like lasers underwater casting froth.
This emptiness of star-glitzed static,
aluminum flash on slate, wind,
God hazing a hole in the fo’c’sle of my mind:
wind again, steam gives way to sail.
How could you possibly possibly not
from this high metal field all dealt
across colossal metaphysical tables
clatter and drop into pockets of the sea?
You, me, this being we burn and flag
and wrack and flake so effortlessly,
I’m the sun reflecting on you,
deep water, harbor in which I sink.