“As a billion various ocean waves are all in fact water, wave-ing, so the water is just the universe ocean-ing—holding in the form of water.” – Jennifer Michael Hecht
What I take as personal greeting, is you announcing the universe. The black screen and you all white. The heart beat a guitar string plucked by invisible fingers, same ones that stroke the ocean. Such a thin sequence of crests and troughs.
Body, body-ing, reproduce-ing and I can’t tell if there is a self along for the ride. What you do is what you are. When seen straight on, when the ultrasound’s high frequency goes in and on, against you, a right arm lifts up towards the outline of your head. Then it’s lowered.
You, this struck thing inside me, wave. I am on the shore, it seems you know I’m watching. Or don’t. You are not all water, though floating, and you wave.
A week later we are swimming. My back on the sea, the water lifts and drops. I will not think about our parallels. The reflection or transmission of the sky does penetrate. A billion, or more, various parts are holding.
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