really as the last bits of a time taught rope   

curve themselves into shelter     

so do these words form themselves only to be silent until brought out again         

laid for some rest and anchor 

and then pulled about for some new feeling to get caught in       

see themselves as ship wrecked not on a leaky hull

but standing tall on sturdy stuff    

even though all that would do is lack dust 

appall some faith     

show a disregarding of the current standing    

and an all about confusion as to the movement of the current beneath keel     

she is yar perhaps like the skin about me but not so  

much that she would not yield to the roiling pacification of rolling out to sea  

and miles of alien not-land   

made for no human touch  

love for no human hand   

and yet singly ready to bespeak itself    

present its existence  

the sky and everything as only witness and the sky bellow full of fishes