![]() ![]() They ponder such questions later, as they were busy re-inventing ships, navigation, andĮquipment with which to excavate sunken treasure.Īs for the white fabric, it turned out to be too finely stitched to disintegrate, and too vast andīulky to burn. People, however, were so startled that it didn’t occur to them to wax philosophical neither did ![]() The freshly disclosed ocean found itself surprised to be in happy colloquy with the sky as wavesĪnd clouds wondered together, Are we depth all the way up or surface all the way down? The The rest of the people said nothing, but only gazed, until one worker, near enough to be splashed, It’s the underworld risen! cried others, and indeed, it did seem to exude a peculiar light. It’s a beast! A monster! some shouted, and indeed, it did seem to writhe and slaver. The removal crew went down to the shoreline with long hooks and pulled back the silk, rolling it That there was anything other than some kind of wasteland beneath-they’d forgotten all aboutĮventually, in keeping with the new aesthetic honoring exposure, they decided to take off the Only the ocean’s garb remained, though after so many generations, the people couldn’t imagine Since nudity of all kinds was coming back into vogue, no one replaced them. Meanwhile, on land, the other coverings gradually frayed, unraveled, disintegrated, and were I am voltaic blue, it murmured I am incarnadine gold, diaphanous green. Ranges, its running crevices and iterative turns, it was darkly revealed to itself as the lapidary Other horizontally while the waves flattened themselves into a slow float.Īs the ocean began to palpate its plants and creatures, its embedded caverns and mountain Yet gradually, over centuries, the tides and currents released their tension and embraced each Overwrought condition, so it labored to make itself still as possible despite having long ago Though new to soul-searching, the ocean intuited that nothing could be learned in an Released from the work of glaring at its nemesis the sky, the ocean asked itself, What am I inside The long-lost white map of foldable space. They chose silk lined with crepe-de-chine and organza in eggshell, platinum, swan, fleece, snow,Ĭhalk, and pearl-a masterwork of exquisite understatement-and laid it out upon the waters like Had done for them, didn’t it deserve some respite? Reportedly drawing up projections regarding the moon and other celestial bodies in anticipationĪlso, everyone felt that the ocean resembled an enormous eye never allowed to close after all it So they decided to attire the ocean, not out of any sense of prudery, but because they’d long agoĪppareled the cities with their hanging gardens as well as the mountains and plains experts were That they can take in the story for themselves,Īnd disassemble its subtexts on their own? Is like laboring to decode a swarm of bees, That luminous tissue, that corporeal frame.Īttempting to recite from the transparent book There’s also the angel of the other side, Parting it so that it closes up behind you,Īnd that you can’t sketch your worst enemyįlickering between sheerness and opacity, So that even if you could set it on fire, We already have nearly a continent’s worthĪ serving’s worth, you wouldn’t eat it raw īut it’s made up of varying consistencies, That advances, but the disturbance itself Lining the wave’s underbelly strike each other, Or the suspended, churning furrows between peaks, With the concavity between trough and crest, When expunging a wave, you mustn’t interfere Author of 7 books- Boneyard, Unwritten Law, Stormwater, Skeletal Black (all from POOR Press), \ Elohi Unitsi (Conviction 2 Change Publishing) and coming in February 2022, Rusty Gallows Vagabond Books) and Plans (Nomadic Press)-and 43 anthology appearances under his figurative belt so far. Active on creative writing
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