October 2026

two eyes together yield depth 
one eye alone yields none 

yet when I let mine eye be single 
and not like Poseidon's son 
but after the second 
the one they call 
the third - 

the gate 
in the brow 
to greater depth 
and the inner realms - 

and gaze through the glass eye 
that frames my vision 
of the realms 
outside 

what does it reveal? 

a depth of apparent illusion 
as close as the far side of the glass 
as it begins to melt away 

glorious and rich 
it nourishes me 
like darkness 

like something 
only Alice can see 

depth in the shallows 
of a surface made mirror 
by the angle of reflected light 

This is the ninth pairing in Confluence, a series of poems written in response to original photographs.

I began writing these during the pandemic, using the pictures I was making at the time. I have continued this practice ever since, always writing in response to my most recent images.

I publish a new Confluence every new moon and every time the luminary dyad perfect a trine.

even so close to the shore 
in such shallow water 
and still 

the depth is immense 
as deep as the sky 
and darker 

in the shadows 
reflections distorted 
as through antique glass 
darkly... 

so hard to determine 
where the sky ends 
and water begins 

the tug of the tide is so strong here 
and in such fresh water 
I wonder 
is this the place? 

where Odysseus polytropos, 
turned all but inside out 
by the god he angered, 
came at last inland 

far enough 
to have his oar mistaken 
for a winnowing fan 
and so planted it 

there 
in the solid ground 
that those who knew not 
even the taste of salt on their food 
might come to know the god of the sea 

an offering 
a final sacrifice 
to propitiate the one 
whose wrath had kept him 
so long from finding his home 

for here, at this place 
reflection but momentary 
lulls me 

pulls me 
under the current of thought 
into realms of stillness 
silence and 
depth 

This is the eighth pairing in Confluence, a series of poems written in response to original photographs.

I began writing these during the pandemic, using the pictures I was making at the time. I have continued this practice ever since, always writing in response to my most recent images.

I publish a new Confluence every new moon and every time the luminary dyad perfect a trine.