sink/swim

What is (my) life

but an idle boat

isolated

upon a raging sea of possibility:

sink/swim

sink/swim

sink/swim

sound the waves

flapping against my stern

countenance amplified

by these “oh, this is dead serious!” doubts.

At times, they’re only

mere ripples,

a gentle patter,

tempered by the arrogance found in made-to-measure destinations.

Otherwise, they’re mostly

the roughest of currents,

cresting

crashing

clattering

drowning out

insight—

just can’t

see clear landing….

For this, is always water, water, everywhere

but not a drop

to drink

up

out of

some unimaginable good life.