Marianas Trench

the little transport
of smoke mottled by
a weighty kind of
cavernous air-

that you would expect
after an eon in a cold-
dark place with shapely rocks,
tiny shells smashed
against the phosphorescent walls-

and dusty-
headed. tousled. he takes a bitter
sip, pretends it trout,
little brown birds

that build nests out-of-doors

and there is only quiet among the great fish-
the larger fish. not the ones for men nor meant
for men to see but the cave-eyed fish
who gasp

by the hot air ducts-

and there is quiet.
a value of quiet-
a smokey quiet by the smokey bridge the snake-
bridge that

distrusts greatly
the vassal-wind

it has brought many before unwilling for the greatness of wind-
but it has never
repeatedly driven off-
become less

and a happy I stands
alone-
admit the submarine hall of
sub-
marine-
steel. the steel is cold and is raggedly warlike
and maw and rough

it is not quiet. it does not

breath thru'
the cavernous transported current-
water