i swim
under curtains of bronze seed
shaken out by birch
fingers gloved with air beads
immersed in chiaroscuro
of sun and dark water
in the bottomless lake
my bones lengthen
into baleen shapes
there are shapes in the water
atavistic voices
wriggle into my skin
i sink
pulled by katabatic
currents
into nascence
I like this poem very much and I’m being won over to your banishment of punctuation. I’m copying this in some of my poems – but I can’t so far bring myself to ditch ALL capitals!