Again, again...

again, Ophelia

full with breathing water
watching the form of fear, then the undulations
of shells into sand into
feet and fish tugged up, soon

Selfish with a smile and the illusion

of time -- what is it?
Temporal, then sliding like that

Tide unmeasured by the next
work
in symbols
Open a better collision than fences and hooves

As song brings summer now
It is winter so what about a cigar, babe?

A sweet one to run
down the stairs
out of the bar
Should be suddenly
laughing into you
Then, you
Know it is
the bedroom, then
the confusion of

Is it God?
or, it is mind sliding through
a semiotic dream
in heightened electrical energy

In the hands
a handwritten letter, then a sitting quietly
Always with this unborn child
in all this living that is
The dressing of new lace

not thinking
about what you are not, you are
the ocean, then you are always
tracing this form emerging again
from sheets sinking into another
twist of the torso and more hoof beats

where what is, is
true, then you, a new version