underwater air

the windows have to be complicated. sometimes you want to let the sun in but not the dust. sometimes you want the air but not the rain. i try each window and in the middle of doing this i see the pool. in the middle of the yard is the pool. the only source of light is this pool. i fall into it. i remember i can swim. i kick to float up. i can't breathe. it seems i will never reach the surface. i am forever kicking upwards wanting to breathe and just as i think of air i start to breathe. still underwater i am breathing, kicking, seeing the surface but never surfacing, hearing muted sounds, filling my lungs with this miraculous, acqueous, underwater air.

chasm

i don't know what to call it except "chasm." it goes deep. it gushes water. i step closer and closer to it. i am filled with awe.


And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
- Coleridge, "Kubla Khan"

just for me

i am getting married in the cathedral that was built just for me.

nothing is no longer in place

at my old school.

been sleeping

i step out of the room that is not mine. measured steps. wooden floor. light. i have been sleeping. my pajamas are white. i am fine, i am fine. i look around the house. i feel i might go unsteady. i keep walking to the door, towards the warmth. i reach out to a hand that is light but sure. outside is sun, air, shore. she pulls up a chair so i can stay and watch the surf, the sky, the light.