water – poems 2 die for

UNDER

I almost drowned
way back,
decades ago

survived (obviously)
but suffered
much water damage

took on
so much water
always drifting, never
an even keel

now
fear immersion, the very
thought of absorption

and here I am now
26 degrees East, 26 South,
before climate change,
incessant rain
it used
to be semi-desert

trying to write a science fiction
tale
about a human atomic
powered submarine
navigating a vast
unknown ocean, ocean
on an incredibly distant
alien planet
not going anywhere but
got a title at least, that
being “Under”

writing it as a riff
on Verne’s 20,000 League
tale of
the Nautilus, whilst
exploring the mythology of
my Western and
Eastern
astrological signs

almost drowned on
board a ship (whilst
the irony seems
exquisite, technically it
was the Atlantic
that came
for me
and, after possible
divine intervention, simply
changed its mind

this
on our way to a new land,
new home
my Father thought
best for us

beautiful country with
a dark, iniquitous history
about
to get darker

and all
through my life, Atlantic,
Indian, Benguela, Mozambique-
Agulhas

those waters
out to get me
constantly out
to infiltrate, swim
through

my brain
having me respond in
ways to rational human
being can
comfortably respond

daring me
to speak the truth
of coldness, darkness,
of the abyss

having me say things I
would not
let myself say

the text
of “Under” still not
finding its page.

RETURN

sat by the oasis
dreaming of the ocean
dreaming of rivers.

sonetimes
water is everything
whole story
story beyond story

not your cockeyed
fable, an affront
to intelligence, all
our sensibilities

trying to tell me
it was delivered unto you
directly from Heaven
that angels had in a hand
in all the suffering
this has caused

so badly told, open
to simple deconstruction

the power that
truth must speak to

the lie
so ingrained, expression
of that darkneds to which
front
beginning of time
we have
always aspired

but as for me
waiting at this oasis
for whatever inspiration

know how in this
business, words
beginning
to swim

line by
line
moment by moment

thinking, writing the river
the ocean

suddenly all talk
is of this great return

WATER MOCCASIN

I waa thinking
of a dream poem
about a new
dream body

when all of a sudden
a mud-coloured water moccasin
broke through the surface
of my flow
alerting me to
the inescapable nature of entropy
and the primeval structure
of my being

and here the skunk odours
of this approaching viper
alerted me
at once to the dingy, tawdry, drab
undercurrents
of all life

and so
I sensed it best to put
all dream-minded thoughts
on hold, let
them back burn for
the night

water mocassin gliding
effortlessly by
not as ornery a reptile
as is
the reputation.

YOU ME

YOU ME

you water sign
me water sign

would I could
just dissolve right
into you

first, of course,
panper you, enter you

let you
suit me, fit me,
to a T

all night working religiously
to synchronize, synchromesh
get gears
of love smooth
sailimg

faultless to the touch
zero non-tolerance
spot
and stain-free