Down by the Humus Lake
Spring comes to the house
by flood
of a minor kind
to the basement
which holds it
makes it calm
flattens it and
stills
a gift from the lake
to the new people
a surprise
for their descent
water worries the house posts
sits on the steps
moody
made of murk
eventually
we approach the door
the stairway down
carrying our lights
our tendency
to drown
*
runoff has profile
drainage scent
one of us
says this aloud
I scoop a glass of it
to gauge the rolls
folds
myths
and all the rest
the thickness
glisten
glide
brown black pale brown
fungi
moss
and crown
a jar
a gauze
mouth of cotton
mouth of moor
of mire
you light a candle
from the fire
an exchange of oxygen
a balancing
a clasp
*
you say
we will use this shovel
we will use this tub
upstairs
this pan
this rug
this cover for the windows
I say
this knocker for the door
our language
handedness
wince
you add
error
I say I suppose
*
stand of willows
stand of boys
wisps of children
water noise
down by the humus lake
geese
the call of geese outbound
to water
ground
groundwater
the lonely in the lake
the being in each thing
as in
gun must be a he
rocks they
we the flight
and vanishing
this morning you awakened
freezing
from a dream of dirt
the moving edge
of dirt
she a lining of the night
you bear everything I write
down by the humus lake
down by the humus lake
*
in the fens
beside a pond
a lens of light
you fall mysteriously ill
mysterious to a marsh
*
now that you are hurt
I want to be
your magic
*
music
traveling in the quiet
a sleep
easing through the dense
you
lit like a mast
appearing to conduct
a tight hold on your mind
the tight hold of water
on sound
the sinking hear it
as they ladder
down
I hear it from my bench
in your wave
outlines of the cabbage
lilies
grass
the sounds of these
and birds
the wrigglers near the boats
nosed into mud
your wave of patience
we arrived on foot
I wear these
rubber-soled shoes
*
you may be thinking
of the moon
rising on the sky
as a portion of the past
come round again
to look
so
you say
taking time
as for finality
your heart
burrowing
like a vole
light floats on your face
you may be thinking
have you come
to absorb me
I may be thinking
it is just the moon
deep organics
of the mudbank
have no moon
sense has reach
as damp
is equal to the beach