Forgetting the dangerous weight of his body
on the calm skin of the lake, he swims
on his back in the female receptive position,
face to the bright sky, thin clouds
vaporizing fast in the sun's brilliance
with the water beneath him penetrated by light
and substanceless as air and he afloat
in nothing, one with the water and air and light
and the purposeful seeming union of atoms
producing a mind digesting meanings
like a ruminant disgorging from stomach to stomach
the sobbing face on the stairs, the debate
about all the gods, the screech of delight
at finished work, weightless stuff ready
to drift away in the water and air and light.
TODAY IN SLATE
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