
Reflection On Water /2. The price we pay to water for its being two thirds of us is, in thrust, saturation. The colors of the blood, each separately, mirror the curtains from rage to delight. Saliva, stickier than a toad's (which is the tongue) bleeds on into the conversation of what we are passing through. Oils, enough to dot the ground for one winter and then dry out toward the Earth's center. The protean of one mountain or one estuary seeking resolution. The episode of the search for the body of a friend lost at sea, a sunset, a pearl, an opal: all aflame ---- . To rise upon a triangle of satin,...