Abstract:
Fingertip to fingertip,
I stretch my arms to their fullest extension,
this length, this beginning to an embrace,
is a fathom.
A fathom measures depth
as a line cast into the sea
slips through the stratum below.
It is enveloped by darkness
as it sinks to the ocean floor.
Beyond a six fathom drop
everything is lost.
ix
The response of the line
to the touch of my fingers,
the response of my fingers
to the resiliency of the line.
Copper curves form
Intuitive configurations.
Particles catch in these arcing lines
of ebbing corporeal mass.
Remnants accumulate
amidst the ritual of tides.
Vestiges of light shift quickly,
I trace their forms.
Elemental atrophy releases
echoes held in the recesses
of copper residue.
Lengsel is the length of longing.
The reach to something that
cannot be grasped.
Something beyond the sixth fathom.
