If this seems difficult to fathom it is because
this like the ocean is in need of

translation here every thing means some other
thing and the pig running

through is more than some pig running
through the flock of white

birds skating the air above the hill's foot
is more than that too for like

every work of love they are the gumshoe work
of detection and translation into teetering

sense a scaffolded building spiraling toward
heaven is to blame for this slippery

hermeneutic this chasing of hints inside our own
private idioms this whisper listening still

that words get said and heard in all their inglory
is a bit like a little gift isn't it at

the bottom of the black mountain
lies a place where fresh

water from rain runs into the ocean you can hear it
mixing to foam there the slippery

echo of love listen it's sea it's mer it's mersea
it's mercy it's mercy it's mercy

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