June First: Drawing Water

and what does it all mean anyway?  you above the fray, in the shadows, in the cool?  me in the heat, inside the sun wanting to lay in a soft bed but waiting.  waiting?  i'm exhausted, can you tell?  we are not similar nor are we close.  but you try.  and i try.  you've come quite a distance.  how kind.  now can we get some sleep?

***

i ask myself, where am i going?  am i the river rambling down the lane, rambling down the lane, rambling.  rambling.  such words invite ellipses.  i love ellipses.  if i could be  a mummy, i'd want a sarcophagus made of ellipses.  made of ellipses like running water, and the cascading of images onto a page beyond geometrical that it is geothermal, pulsing hot and echoing cool.  cool the pop of rock giving into perpetual motion.  per-pet-ual-mo-tion.  repetition, repetition, forever. 

what is any and all of this but nothing and sound?  mind sound that is melodic and magical.  a movement from the mundane is swept up in a helicopter's panting.  helicopter, helicopter way up in the sky, will you fall down?  down like water, rambling like pages of poetry pantomimed in paper notes, like wishes squeezed from a squealing child all flushed with the tickle of hide and seek?  i'm so surprised every time you're there for me.  presence is symmetry.  and delightful.  and novel.  every time a hand covers the frame. 

water from up.  water from down.  below and above ground.  in the sky.  a big cubic space of water.  all i hear is music.