the process begins 

another surface 

a different implement 

and no moment in 

which language is 

separable from form 

left in the fetid murk 

of uncommunicated thought 

encapsulated in sorrow 

these selves double 

and redouble 

enlargened cloning 

and what of we 

will replicate 

and which will survive 

yet another undoing 

or is this putrescence 

what grows on slow things 

things left alone 

should we let the scum

go through us 

or move keep moving 

pulled with arms and shoulders

down the swollen river

scaled with calf and thigh 

above the cloud line 

and how will we know 

we’ve arrived 

by time or distance 

or warmth