In Deep Water
October 16, 2007
Only the fish have come this far where the long sweet tides walk out beyond the boundaries — I think that I have gone too far this time. There are no hands to hold me back as I walk here with my arms and legs. I am in deep water where the fishes go.
Everyone told me — and it’s true — that one’s affairs can’t be carried out in this peopleless realm. But the long sweet tides have arrested my attentions, and they have brought me here. I am in deep water where the fishes go.
There are no colors here — only an endlessness. I have assigned myriad names for their absence. I have said too many things that have no meaning here. I am in deep water where the fishes go.
To be caught on the hook — to come swimming in like a caught fish — gasping at life — this is my secret chore, my secret dream. But the long sweet tides have taken me by the arms and legs, and I am here, in deep water, where the fishes go.
Spring 1990 (?)
What would make your verse much stronger? RISK! Get off your duff and swing once or twice at the machine, the one Thoreau so detested, as in “let your life be a counterfriction to stop the machine.” It would likely take a miracle for you to swing. And sadly I am not a miracle worker.
Sincerely,
G. Tod Slone, Ed.
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