robert moses joyce
AND KNEELING AT THE EDGE OF THE TRANSPARENT SEA I SHALL SHAPE FOR MYSELF A NEW HEART FROM SALT AND MUD
at the bottom of the ocean is a layer of water that has never moved
I am molten matter returned from the core of earth to tell you interior things
Sometimes I dream a sentence and write it down. It’s usually nonsense, but sometimes it seems a key to another world
FRANCE. Paris. 2001.
After all, the only rule of travel is, Don’t come back the way you went. Come a new way
I can hear little clicks inside my dream.
Night drips its silver tap
down the back.
At 4 A.M. I wake
My brother once showed me a piece of quartz that contained, he said, some trapped water older than all the seas in our world. He held it up to my ear. ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘life and no escape