I. Notes on “motionlessness”


smoke on snow’s surface
fading,

leaf in wave’s rising
fragility,

where the hands pass
not a displacement of air
a stone-etched grasping,


as words compenetrate
world,


and heavy



snow-bloom effacing ambiguity,
snow-rain slanting towards slant-shape
spine, the auroral serpent

what is birthed by necessity,

A reflection is not a doppelganger,
the aniconic stone bathes its
contours




to translucence, as white as the page
they extend into


the form and dimensionality


eclipse,
and a touch,
mimetic, that tear,
an eye the shaped-stone dissolves into.

Where is the text

it has gotten away from me,

a lush garden and meteor
where you are, voices,


and I have tried to speak
drifting away,

washing fingers of faience

to light spinning

to tendrils of
smoke: the many writings,
the theater is a hemisphere
and its clouds drift every piece


Mind, a spider of tinder
dwelt, where the veins met,
in the dark earth dwelt,
in the caves.

Aery Erinyes, judiciously taken under
silver gaze, And took control of his guilt
there blood


free-floating,
eaten away by glass-sky
the geology, the scrap of.

And the first substitution was of stone

swallow, the cave.
A poem that starts with A:

sparagmos clotting surface


And view from the periphery
from under the dark-hooded-cave:
out there the gray shore translating each wave-beat
terracing, ‘And a world is
covered in [ ]’


runs off leaf-point.





And all motion is possible

the stilled gray waves echo the stone,


mise en abyme, mirror-play upon the

concentric, glides the moving waters
of memory.

A triangle,


Prismatic light penetrating into
fountain of dawn, And the clouds,
the clouds were bluer than any blue ever
held in the sky.

Figure of the self standing in window’s

obscured by its own eye’s depths:
shadow-dance.
Obscured.
And all

an eye that dawns upon




Riding the waves, a sign,

The gray waves in translation, in sight
of their flurry.
Beyond sight, the emanation:
Deeply summer-snow, winter-thunder


Name and image join
as tongue of flame to halo of light.

A name is its fate




And all motion is possible beyond fog,

Immanence:

to desire a scene untouched by the wind,
where you are waiting

occupied by figure of wind.

And do not thaw these silver skies, yet,

Blue wings are the thread through


Waves penetrate dimension,
jagged jade leaves,
the heavy boughs, grayed, bowing

From as, to when. The vivid life of.
Hold out your hand, cliff to the
dark-capped sea, look,
the still resonance.

The ineffable wind,

and when taken into its ebbing,

all to the moon given,

rain dyes night purple:
in this domed crystal night
the Pleiades are a flurry of doves,


and,


to be a kingfisher flurrying blossomed wave
oh, with you halcyons oh; and to empty my heart
over purple-dyed-sea,




II. Κολυμβῶσαι

1.
Winter is

a sense (the loss of)
feel clear blade of winter
furrow, just a breeze the
heat-shimmer of ice.
In a sense of liquid, held, and
bequeath your tears
suddenly,
burning.
And captivate the snow as it falls,
falling,

The muse as dawn descends,
scattered along the break, it is an outpouring.
Winter is, the way thick foam blankets the sand-ridge,



Light shards upon morphing surface.
Of dark earth and white aether, both,

with wings shatter the rays of light.

Weeping; bequeath your tears


Of weight breaking the frame, the light.
Liquid feather, foam.
Stones washed in pattern of forest-floor, tensile.

coral, jade, marine,
adorned in veil dissipate;



And foam pearls in the solid air.
In feathers swimming.
Caught in nocturnal sun; caught wave’s webbing;

under hazy lid and in distance rising

mist an arch of stones;
a floating voice barely heard, the cordage.
The veil voiceless brushed,


The cut, the morphing of the surface
misshapes the image, frame.

Sound swimming to the edge of echo, cut,
echo-pool; there the moon shattered against wave;

The moon married to its sound.
Where it falls into the sea, the full song fills its

These acts of writing,
neuroses, breaking the cosmos
of light. Against the void.
The pearl-tears fall
without stain,
fall spotless
in this winter-rain.

EP heard κολυμβῶσαι in an air-idiom,
floating through color-spring,
and wrote Amaotome. Sea-divers
are the constellations given
to the sea. A thousand years spanned,
Breath, a facsimile of wave-shimmer.
A thousand years, drifting. Tension, in-shoot, and growth,
penumbra/umbra. Wing overlaps faded hue

Constellations are to the sea
given. Inertia.

2.
A single wave alters the pool-clear,
desecrates, a page;
pearl-dense its fluid movement.

But a dancer at the edge there.


With air framing its clear image.
With the grass grown long in the sun,

That those hands too will pass into stillness;


Psyche, Of water and glass,

Pass into window,

And the dance untouched in undertow,

And a whole world curved


Again, too, the arc of your dancing.

Purest, the moon.
Pearl, as a fiction in bent grasses.
Near,

Paler than sunset,

And realer than fiction,

And the fog,




Water ripples in cloth entombed,



Motion and counter-motion


And all this stumbling


Soft under blue waves,

your voice permeating

closed concentric cocoon.
Memory’s grain formed an edifice:
the interior view, grotto’s fluid movement,

in pen’s blue-wash, Static:
not a stasis, but effervescence,

And branches grown from this point,


Entombed within your voice



You have given me your orders, to compose,











And the way the air




To stand under a blizzard gathered