I feel as easy as a newt,
   A wavering light form
     Sustained by the warm waters
   Of a small pool,
But it’s still a pool much larger than I could ever be,
   I see it as an atmosphere,
An open spacious holding
   That is my everywhere,
I know this as I know the roundness of my limbs,
   Know this from the inside,
Even as I look down at my mottled hands
   With their crimped fingers,
Their evident uselessness,

Within them blood still flows
   In completely unformulated
Swimming wholes
   That fill me with my heart’s own life,
That calls forth a smile,
   A nearly shining textured perfection quality
Of a brimming fullness path,

I am wholly effortless today,
   And yet words still show up,
Words and the rounding breaths
   I find even in the blinkings
    Of my globular eyes,
They are the slow lifts and fades of light,
   I am my own calendar,
    Illustrated, motionless, ever here.