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Poem	As you descend, slowly, falling faster past you this snow, ghostly, some flakes bio- luminescent (you plunge, and this lit snow doesn't land at your feet but keeps falling below you): single-cell-plant chains, shreds of zooplankton's mucus food traps, fish fecal pellets, radioactive fallouts, sand grains, pollen....And inside these jagged falling islands live more microlives, which feed creatures on the way down and all the way down. And you, in your sinking isolation booth, you go down, too, through this food-snow, these shards, bits of planet, its flora and flesh, you slip straight down, unreeled, until the bottom's oozy silt, the sucking baby-soft muck, welcomes you to the deep sea's bed, a million anvils per square inch pressing on your skull. How silent here, how much life, few places deeper on earth, none with more width.
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