over the page, light made of water

               echoey and full of holes

               a semicolon is a sample: remix the sprawling sound

               of questions haunting without end

               it’s all languid

               it’s all language

               where did it begin? in the ghostly song or on the watery page
               the essay begins as a scream and ends as parentheses

               groaning in their curved masses stretching

               to nowhere, warping, bending
               the essay cycles like ocean time               moans electronic rhythms

           tangential swells

               the essay samples ghost knowledge

               the essay wanders from one margin to the next

               the essay isn’t logical

               the essay repeats itself

               the essay documents its own untethering

               the essay doesn’t contribute itself productively

               the essay marinates in its mediocrity

               the essay takes time to rest

               the essay is very black

               the essay builds a metric of pleasure

               the essay haunts whiteness

               the essay embraces itself

               the essay turns constantly to look ahead and behind and within

               the essay makes little sense is                  full of water

                                             water as an archive
                                             the water leaks into a remembrance of itself

                                             ‘somewhere always moving’

                                             in thick paused time when ghosts laugh into ancient dreams

                                             the water is a document that echoes uncertainly

                                             the water is motion made electronic which is to say circular

                                                            moving in excess of itself and all it holds

                                             the water holds that which it has witnessed all imaginary too much

                                                                           gleeful-dumb                bodied and

moving moving!

                                             the water is a membrane realising it has limbs

                                             the water is a memory realising it has limbs

                                             the water is intimate with the ghosts

                                             the water writes a watery essay ends it with an upward inflection

                                             the water has impeccable rhythm

                                                            tears up a dancefloor               is sweaty               cries often

                                                            remembers everything moves in for an embrace – braces

                                                            against its own muddiness

                                                            will keep rearticulating itself

                                             the water exists in a blue dream and its hands are big enough to hold

                                             this, too can slow drip reverberations

                                             or webbed silken promises

                                             the water carves out a new retelling

archive as an island
watery archive moving alongside bodies moving to ghost language that mouths pure heat within inky

depths
spells a name in that sweltering liquid coursing oceanic
call it a citation that grew limbs then wings

made a home in the archive

syruped its way to paused time
bent and swayed itself into an essay.              that leaked into its own porous dimensions
sweated a landmass full of ghosts

laughing until they can breathe
call it an island, slowed down moving

on archive time
dripping in language towards a new self,

which is to say,