The Ecstasy of Fluidity and a Word.

Feeling wretched like a drowning day,
I am crushed,
Am wearing my coat wet,
Like a crowded dream,
Like Noah in that story
In that book.

Like Dylan, Bible Black,
I gloom,
And follow the trees,
To the end of the woods.
They too are headed
Nowhere other than upward.

Not seeing the wood
For the trees.
Not having mastered
The game of life
Daily I take the life trophy.
To another.

And in the evening
Wounded by my work
I reach as is my habit
For my flood.
And the bottle has a grip on me
Stronger than my grip on it.

And when I am gone
Who will be with me
On that morning?
A threat or a treasure?
A confidence trick
Or a truth?

Or the drug of the gods?
Or the fullness
Of One God,
Exposed one to one.
Ad Infinitum.
Am I in ecstasy at last?

Christopher Thompson.

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