The Cuckmere

He’d driven for some time

Before coming to a narrow bridge

A sign saying Cuckmere.

“That’s odd” he thought

“The same Cuckmere?”

Its banks steep and close

Water a quick muddy brown

Not the slow, low-banked friend

He thought he knew.

“But then, how recognizable am I now

After all these twists and turns?

And is there a stretch of me

That still races over

Mixed pebbled shallows?”



Ultimate reality? Absolute truth?

There’s nothing “ultimate” about ultimate reality.

Nothing supra-dimensional, nothing timeless,

Everything relative, everything transitory.

What’s so ultimate about the sheen on the floor?

About the smell of evening air through the bathroom window?

These things are so much closer, so much more dangerous!

You look at the blue sky and think of benevolent ultimate reality?

I tell you, you see it for what it is,

See the killer tone behind the word “blue”,

See the sheer drop behind the word “sky”,

You see all that….it’ll bite your head off.