Taken from below
The well of today
Has brought up
A bucket full of
Thirst on a long
Thin string ready
To crack with not
Much weight, Tight
Already.
The line’s tug is
Felt from above,
Where the knots
Rub sores on the
Bar of wood
That straddles the
Dead round hole-
Soul drop, below the bar.
The bar is my brain,
Pain is the knot
And the rope
Is my self
Whom I have taught
To expect Nothing. Neither
Bucket life and
But there is more
Rope and more depth
And more pain
And water, too, if
I plunge in again
[4th September 2009]
