Standing a long time before the pond, in November Standing and looking at nothing Or looking and forgetting it is oneself that looks 5 One begins to think That the sinewy residue at the bottom of the pond And the pond, and one's consciousness of the pond 10 Moving over it like an enigmatic cloud Are one, that the famous watery veils are no longer Waiting to be torn, or that, torn already, They have left only these sinewy shreds, 15 Gluey blacks thinly dispersed in the space Between the self, astutely observing, And the brown pane of water that lifts the clouds 20 And the bottom of the pond.
From the collection "Constellations in December"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.