The brown sheet tangled with the wind flutters for a mile
lapping at my ankles a hungry dog of a lake
hush-whispered calling for my orange red toes to lift
launching from the squelching mud of my own young earth
And they do
For an isolated heaven of pine tree loneness
singing in the dropping July sun among unborn waves
Now I stroke
Contemplating its untouched bowers
through the splashing eyes of water
eyes squinting above a nostril wetness
My hands thrust out and pull the island to me
The dreary staleness of unmotion
I kick behind me with wild-horse legs
Half way now I pause dropping vertical
and turn absorbing the panorama
of the domed world’s undreaming beingness
god-breathed wind-twisted waves
are rising burgeoning hunger for motion
But I could wait rising falling
falling rising rising falling
until muscles lock and I am only
falling
I could make new eyes
of the spirit
the spirit of the lake my new self
A legend a myth
haunting the brown depths rising in darkness
hovering above the surface unvisceral
a new pagan god without worshipers
Into the vacant ears of sleeping campers
I’ll birth dreams of blood and human sacrifice
delighting them with short-lived escape
from their suburban terrors
Or I’ll scan the black bottom of waters
in a catfish form whiskered and cynical
prolonging the mystery in submarine feeding
on the refuse and off-scouring
of an alien and thankless world
But no not yet
I turn from those gleeful visions and
I turn into the whipping surface repeating
the elemental movement
saving metamorphosis for another day
Now the sheeted sail-clouds journey with me
Now my secret self is smiling
Now the lake is moving under me
Now my life is aimed and ignited
The wind is greeting my arrival
The past is swelling in song
The bridge nearby is stretching in approval
The birds are circling my island
Now my feet are touching earth
Now I am spilling water off my flesh
Now I am wrapped up in the breath of God
Now I am living
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