Genessaret (Going Out Over 30,000 Fathoms Of Water)

We looked hard;

I stood on the bottom.

Calloused tiptoes,

Splintering wood,

Waterlogging.

Break up, come back together. Genessaret.

I want to skip like a stone from a stronger arm.

Each one I throw is moving somewhere.

Oh, let me go.

I will go out, out, out, out

Past these yellow ropes.

I am not afraid.

They sway there like

The shredded ones hung

From my parents' tree

Where I pumped my legs

And I broke into sweat.

I never saw my face

In the bird bath mirror,

Red as blood

And I was tired.

For a minute short, there was a wonder.

A sense after the momentary weird blur,

In the space of expectancy

When you wake,

When you open your eyes.

When you expect to see the same thing that

You've seen. First, the ceiling:

Grey from great oak.

Grey from great oak.

He'd thrown his net over us.

(Stringy hands, stained glass)

And all his sounds, the same today.

But my body changed.

Something in the salty sheets

Was pressing in on me.

Stuck and stinging, I keep rolling.