Dark-Eyed as Wine Lower Down

Deep waves that glide / Over each

Other’s luminescent panes,

Wrote Logue, transforming Homer,

Hardly the first, right? Starting

Ahead of Homer’s own life,

Recreators, translators,

Hundreds of tongues. What is it

In the old song that survives?

What is it in the ocean,

In the waters, in the light

Passing through those gliding waves

Stacked on waves, sliding over

One another forever?

There is no forever, but

There is no end to the waves.