This on Me

Blue sky dragonflies ghost night sky polliwogs.

Amphibian, Devonian, immortally mortal,

The engineers of play move out of the thin

Skinned pond, above and under, what was

Great and is still, small, bejeweled, the blue hunter,

What was egg and is still swimming, hungry, wanting

To mature to croaking, the sleek black-slipped crowd

Masses of almost wonders. Division at Hallucigenia

Millennia and millennia gone led to midsummer daydreams

Not quite whole, not quite distinct, not quite meeting. One

Amalgamation swims, ten trillion of him, and borrows nothings

To compose as nothing, nothing of him, so all of you.

This was a number of yesterdays gone, him gone,

The loon gone, a looming next dream crooning you.