Glass Shattering Under Water

Thoughts that talk are thoughts once sought and
talking thoughts are songs that are taut between
the spheres we toss from jelly and starfish unto
organic stillness as living as the moss embodies

a moment is precious on all levels of existence
from the sloth in the atmospheric tree tops to
oceans deep where I become lost in the belly of
darkness accented by microscopic luminescent life
as conscious as they are asleep all around me
three hundred and 60 one thousand and 80 degrees

maintaining density at a depth
I've never been submerged to before
the echoes of anemones soft glow of
organic phosphorescence the stillness
it speaks to me and in turn I am singing
your attitude and presence comfort me
to temperate degrees of which I can not
Imagine / upon engaging / more so than
I could have ever contrived (even in poetry)

your tendrils and transparencies seemingly never complete
breathe like with the breaking waves that you've never seen
in such silence I swear the sound of the electricity in my body
is that of you singing to me and still in subtle turn
I am speaking in scattered separate tones
influxing pressure parts for the song
it is of the closest distance
the way my voice is through the phone
I talk of thoughts in chosen spoken word
the way I is shattering under water
coma induced cradled by the curve of lacing coasts
coaxing the height of high rises
heavy beneath the surface currents

at these depths / moments are omnipresent
glass spheres shifting swiftly sinking waiting
to be swallowed wholly in by the slinking anemones
the whales tender throats by the vibrato of all remnanties
from the bottom of the ocean floor to the rooves of skies and seas
believe that there are atmospheres underneath my feet
there is vertigo in those clouds if I so say
there is polite autism amidst the trees below my parallel palms
knees swept softly against the inner harbour outer bay
what is that you sing to me sounds which alone convey
cracks in the earths core rotate the deep oceans waves
my transparency is unbinding as the phosphorescence behaves
to bare light inside the fractured splinters of so many
glass spheres shattering under water up turned geometries
angles and pressure gauges of which I am not concerned
air tanks I know that I do not deserve
but without the light I cannot see
where I begin or where I end
so I am as endless as I allow myself to be
completely stripped of all reserve
these fragments are a reminder
of the omnipresence of a moment
every skipped beat
is every silence I hope with