A fragment, falling.

Once I thought

I'd lift the world.

The bottom is beautiful.

The forms of life become

insular and decorate the deep

with their elaborate adaptations.

There is life down here, of a kind.

Glowing with occult blood,

sewn up in seamless lips.

Lava cooled like the blackest honey.

Am I glad to have fallen?

I have fallen.  The gravity

is good for building.

The bough up there in sun

where I hung is gone.

The surface is earlier.

Shells are flower petals

and the pressure is a permanent mistress.

I undress in fermented coils.

Cracking cells instruct me in architecture.

The mud is smoothed by weight.

I turn the hundred prepared pages.

A bubble is the dream of a brick.

A remnant is a cooling wish.

The sea has treasures it can't hide.

I ramble for a burger.