To be the fish on the ladder

     and not know what it means. To feel the bronzes,

          the pearls, the greens, but in a context

               of pure combat. To fight the literal stream

we hurl ourselves into for no

     discernible purpose, other than some molecule

          says it will be worth it. To feel

               worthless enough to listen. To feel

something rather than nothing, the rungs of it

     a punishment, a goading

          into againstness, against the current. To come to know

               the concrete intimately. To come to know

what we want is. To come to know what we want is

     to be the fish on the ladder

          nonetheless. To feel the sun

               like a god we can discern. We hurl

our self into it, being for this purpose. To come to see

     what there is left to feel. To come to feel

          some other. To come to know

               what we want is. To be the fish on the ladder.