Love the sound, the coming sound of the deluge! The sand, and the dew in your mouth, and your lungfilled chest expand with ocean: puncture the hull and breathe the hollow in, and the hollow out, and the hollow howl in-between. Love the coming, the coming of sound: the hollow howl between your toes, the filling of your lungs, the ebbing of your words. Love the sound of the deluge. You are half-a-soul deep in deluge, half-a-soul deep in the transverse embrace of a foamy oceanic reach— deep below the fizzing syzygy of our souls, we meet in the deluge. We understand the deluge: the ancient Australians, the Sumerians and the Sadducees understood the flood. the flood understood itself around them. flood understands itself around us. It understands itself into us, between the layers of our skin, between the layers of our words. Sink, singing the sound of the flood. See my tongue twisting like kelp as I sing, as I try and fail to sing the deluge: The hum-drum cranial hum is not worthy of you— leave it behind in the foam! All the people you have called yourself are not worthy of you— leave them behind in the foam! They do not have the gravity of your soul; let them lose themselves in surface chaos. The deluge is the gravity of your soul pulled to the gravity of my soul pulled to the gravity of every soul sinking in the deluge. But my voice drowns in deluge. And the coming sound drowns in deluge. From the bottom of the deluge, you and I watch the sun set into the sea.
PS: the magic page that will always jump you to the latest poem is "http://www.saintannsny.org/depart/computer/poems.html"