WATER-ELF

Assume for a moment the look of Nix

... nomadic brow of waters
passing in soft transit through the eyes

partaking of funnel currents
governing th'fervent scuttle
& gathering th'scrappy tears

Become          
the Sea-born Sculptor
of saddest parables

             --Sink
to yourself... quite other things
sleep just as peacefully.

It takes the patience of the prophet's eye
student of history

there to discover
Death, meanwhile uncovering
authentic rest, or
wriggling tranquility

Where do we start?

--We've already begun.           

                       ... This is already
Resignation in its decorum, friend, shocked

in the electric continuum of Splash
flexing its muscular disregards, at

latitudes like fangs
or drowning in the dilapidated sea

as negligible as the greatest God
lounging in his lament

like a giddy nectar
in his own imaginary tides amongst
th'lilac reflections
assume for a moment
The Light!      

       ... and
it's not the lightbulb
which asperses brilliance over the wooden
room, say, like the candle toasting Th'Mind
with glowing... Lightbulb
strongarms Light

sans charm, sans elegance, down the throat

& rasping, rags
th'soft-set receptacle
of Vision, till

Where will we end?

[Laughters:] We have already
traveled beyond that!

Unclassified statues standing upon some
tremendous threshold

bigger than all outdoors & vaster, much
vaster than all insides

looking like Nix