Love these feahers in my friend Patricia’s golden locks. (I didn’t know what auricomous meant before I looked it up, either.)
The world’s purest ice! Efim Viktorov, 21, filmed during group’s ice gig. Picture: Etnobit group
I used to be restless water—
only the froth and currents
of a moving life.
Now I am still water,
sinking down to where
I can be found
by anyone willing to stand quietly
Is it true that moving water never freezes?
Is it true that still waters run deep?
Is it true that we are wed in steam?
“What if, caught by air,
it never lets me go?” I ask.
“But even water
turned to air
must fall at last,” you say.
“And what if I fall farther from you?”
I say. “Or what if I never again find banks
that open to contain me?”
I used to be swift flowing water.
Now I am a pool that sinks me deeper every year.
So deep, so deep I sink
that on its way to find me,
even air may lose its way.