Try [a little song to sing in the pool]
The noodles are blessing you again with their bright arches.
They are raining their waters down upon you.
They are bringing their colors and flower shapes to your happiness.
They are helping themselves to the sky for your sake, they
are taking big scoops as they fly. Of it. And are brooding upon you
and mak'sting you pregnant with their great arched backs
they are thinking of you, they are heaping floods unto you
and two calves, one for you and one for everyone else.
They bring you extension. They bring you matters afloat.
You are slapping them against the bodies around you
with arms as long by a mind as long. You would've waited
until necessary to forgive me so I called you Tree.
We will. As long as. Another beginning. Good or bad.
***
... the right mix of creative pique and pleasure that is dignified in someone lucky enough to be a white, middle-class bohemian New Yorker - which by any measure is one of the most fortunate positions in the world. Maybe in the history of the world
Guess I'm out.
***
