Will only be drawn in for one. That, fountain, is yet yours
to keep mystery—you who in yourself inter yourself, feedback-looping:
your substance risk, housing hazard—bear the weight which falls
for this: return from the apo(lo)getic inevitable—plummet toward
the earthly life. Even if I should learn in the shadow of your parabola
I find your voices too multiple, a murmurousness of channel
opaque, inimitable. & you take it so lightly!—you the airy
column of the temple; you who take yourself apart by your own nature /
who lawfully self-destruct & self-fulfill, simultaneous, incident.
Such a dance. In your fall, how sharp the degree of self-modulation
as each instance of you pursues the end of its path. Oh, that is a form
to cultivate. My senses I would elevate to emulate your managing,
self-complicate, uncompromise—variegation of nuance, I inarticulate.
But that which most of your song to yourself (s(l)ung along, the verse
you make by dance, in trajectory) holds me is that instant of silence
in delirium, in the midst of the madness of recitation when, in the
night, in the conduit & traverse of your liquid momentum, your own return
hesitates, derivative-zero, arcing, fascinate—that of a taken breath—
– Lauren Caldwell
Download “Source (An Adaptation from Rilke’s “La Fontaine”) ” as a PDF.