Arctic melt is necromantic whirling renaissance: river-rush saltwater drag.
I can’t see the sky! This now banal smoking soup in the sky
Billowing portensions of goning large masses, oily compact diamonds
Once rough-ready now burning readily, brightly no longer.
Bugbear Bugbear Bugbear — keep out these cannaled gemstones!
And they are bobbing up and down
And they are bobbing up and down, in the boat
Two of them, floating canal-creatured
Amongst lake lessons fluxed less solidly
in dark expanses supervened by the spec
Inspected and spectral ties tied-together
Designs holding them still holding them
Umbilically related realtors, allowing one
Or other or both
Belatedly begotten, balking forth
For if one comes first
Which one? remains hidden
And unimportant
Even indistinguishable
Given present status apparatus
To press on
Pressing on other whispering reoccurrence
Through passing current, irreverent of longitudinal
Laditudinal placement within the quiet of the deep
Anna A understands Ben B as externally agreed names, left name
fully fielded point AABB should
As it shrieks steadily rippling from stolid surfaces
Internalized to such inherent depths dug quietly
From silence like woody vigilance, comprehension
Stands up Anna
Unstates violently
From within and Ben
If it had have been
Unnoticeably begins
Beneath bordered blight
Boxing subtle notice
But proceeds bit
By beginning bits with imperceptible quivering sighs
Query weary to cued bobs: If proportion were set right
We would need not reverberation through sets of might
Like so many wanly marching plights through two sets of drums
Where willingly fractioned set anvils: kites
Less dense would need not echo through windy canals
For far foreign wedged quarries lure drawn-out flights
From heights shrill and found ground pounding, pounding
Hiccupped crescendos
Bobbing up and down
Would suspend those
Accumulated points as twenty-one centuries neoterically force-flood
Renascent bait through glass cylinders—
Its moiled discharge spun unabated, unbugbeared from onliest spots undone:
Arctic fruits from pottery wheels clay makes XYXX.