Mine to ask a mask to say, A is not A.



No one, ever the contrarian, to answer.



The moon is both divided & multiplied

        by water: as chance, as the plural of chant.



O diver, to be sea-surrounded by a thought bled white—

        a blankness as likely as blackness.



What is the word for getting words & forgetting?



Might night right sight?



I, too late to relate

        I & I, trap light in sound

& sing no thing that breath can bring.