from The Adjacent Possible
One emerges, a small vertical at the riveredge. One watches, waves as. By the
bank, waking. Wan to the river’s wake, one.
One scales a rising, back to the hills and climbing fullheight. The rocks cast rocks
upon rocks. One angles with the earth’s rise, flight skyward.
One sounds the waters, breaks toward a bottom of delimitation. Fathomless remains
the river, remains one each at the last.
One rifles over the prospect of scapular hills, scans a metered distance. Breath
and analogous cloud surface the mountain.
One furls the tongue at the riveredge, uncinctures the word and the real. Cracked
breath of language. One slips under, wonders seeded dream.
One turns the eye under cloudcover, an open pool—blue running onto blue,
lapsed distances. One blinks at haze of ice snowfall
One flowers among the watery veils outpalm, open
Under under. Unaccountable, one is countless, fathomless, and alone. Words form as burrs and pits. The
river the mouth weeps.
One dearticulates toward an unthinking unthought Scatters unrelational, spun
pinions mind of atmosphere
One is one, suffices.
One strikes out toward the proposition. One traces over a wide of snowfall.
One in one’s own drift, watching. One wakes as air—