I open, open
what good, what calm, I’ve gathered up
floods out in the alltogether

or I tighten, tighten
calculate that last opening
like a vanishing bank account…

How to turn the tap to the endless middle?
a violin neck has not been so handled
trials, tests, the thousand helping hands
my ears are drains, my mouth another opening

let me not be the hand that turns the tap
but oh, I’d be any of its water
water that gets down
well down, under the dirt