Wednesday, April 08, 2020

Who are you?
That from your grey deep
light and dark emerge?

You typhoon force
that formed our waterlogged flesh,
phalluses spurting, nipples oozing

.

Your liquid mist
that tests the plumb line of trust,
floats the cork of hope.

You waters of meaning,
whose muse driven rains
drench attention, exact expression.

You oceans of I Am,
whence comes the diamond faced dream
that waits in virgins’ water filled wombs.

Who are you,
that drawing us down to a watery end,
still, in you, we become.