"Thou art a sea without a shore..."
—hymn by John Mason
I.
Dark and wet ink on paper,
coarse hairs, wood,
paintbrush massaging
paper.
II.
Sometimes we press,
we write,
wish.
Every once in a while
the shame sticks.
Envelopes arrive
empty.
III.
The dark hammer pounds
down on us
in the same room where
jars full of
brushes sit
unused.
IV.
Still the pages fill themselves
with everyday prose,
infinite calligraphy,
latent in the ink of
ideas.
V.
Body of work, body
of water,
floating.
Silk Road (detail), 2018
Acrylic on wood