A Blue Surface

Swimming farther than anyone else as always, to rocks that from a distance looked like an island but close up were more like knives jutting from a blue surface. Later we talk about the difference between Picasso and velvet Elvises, Steven Pinker essays, and how generally confused people are with respect to evolution. The many dead fish are not averse to your use of the pond. I held on, floated, caught my breath, was amazed at bees who'd flown this far out for the few flowers sprouting in crevices. My brothers and sisters in sweetness. Keeping it simple for once, or trying to, and maybe that is the new mode but who knows? Bohm by the lake, poodles with docked tails, old ladies unperturbed by play, musicians going to seed, and Bohm yet again and yet again the lake. Struck as always by the clarity of seeing the observer and the observed as one and yet how the seeing comes and goes which can make it seem special or magical, your specialness, your magic. Can I get an "oh for the love of Christ?" Be sure you are aware of your preference for the Abrahamic God as you ask all these questions - question questioning, question the questioner and so forth. Or don't bother. It's going where it goes anyway. I didn't think I'd make it out - thought maybe at last I'd found the limits of my body's need for water and ability to leave others behind while in it - but no, there I was alone, floating, everyone a blurred dot on the shore and it was peaceful and quiet, an earned joy, if one can say that that way, which I'm going to do whether it's allowed or not. Well, there is so little to say really but one knows it must be said so there you go. Sunlight on pine trees at six a.m., my new home beside the river, and my river flowing in every direction at once.