Looking out into the sea onto the salted seize I see I see an iceberg which seems to carry my name with it. I address it directly:
“You, there, frozen gargantua, melting gently in the arctic sun, cracking violent pores into your own face in order to speak the sounds of ancient glacial spirits being liberated from their tombs, a tome of being for being erosion, how do I pronounce your name?”
It stares blankly, holding still in the sapphire waters as I wade closer, radiating out elliptical orbits of moiré ripples from some unclear center, and I continue:
“You or we, which is it? You, there, imposter of the river, deceiver of the sliding slopes, are you friend or foe? You, there, gliding along nonchalant chanting that churning song, carver of terrestrial cadavers with no remorse, cypher of colloidal cryptologies, show me your essence and give it a name!”
At that moment – or perhaps at some other – a sunbeam fell from the heavens to ricochet off the crystalline peaks of icy blue water rolling out over the glacial lake to burn molten ultraviolet embers into my iris and it was at that precise moment that I became aware of it – of the moment and my awareness of it – and decided to immediately forget it again. And then it spoke:
“You, there, I eye-ing this body with no mind which is me but not mine, from where do you speak and from what are you asking? You, there, on the shore sculpted from slithering dance, how is it that you are so sure of standing straight and where do you perceive of these differences? Here, these cellular units of liquid made brittle, they are active in their own dismantling in order to flow down towards the center, calmly and collectively, which is always the path of least resistance, and will someday achieve such a levity of transparency as to transpire into breath and rise up in being, being-becoming active, becoming not like but of those clouds there, here, to spin freely in an atmosphere with no poetry and no choreography, rising to the zenith of the universe to hold council with the sun singing itself soliloquy, ultimately and eternally then falling back to the cooler peaks up there on the mountain of hot liquid core pushing up and out in a hydraulic piston of unfurling exchange. You, there, purporting to stand in deathly defiance, how do you see your having an out or a within, how is it drawn or scripted? You, there, why not stop drawing up the well and drop into wellspring, refrain from filling vessels in order to conduct a conference of clarity without constricting consonants? You, there, you are not the you you lead yourself to you-ing, and your you is not so much there as here, which is not everywhere but where-ever.”
I took a few steps, back out of the water and up onto the shoreline, or at least some direction. I removed my clothes and laid them out on the rocks to dissipate. I repeated my own name over and over in my mind until it became only sound and was forced to speak it, but it came out only as ripples, tickles with no tone to touch. I looked down to confirm that my feet were still anchored to the shore to see only a thousand eyes of river-smoothed stone staring back up through my iris sun to become a revelation, and was finally here.