Mine to ask a mask to say, A is not A. No one, ever the contrarian, to answer. The moon is both divided & multiplied     by water: as chance, as the plural of chant. O diver, to be sea-surrounded by a thought bled white–     a blankness as likely as blackness. What is the word for getting words & forgetting? Might night right sight? I, too late to relate     I & I, trap light in sound & sing no thing that breath can bring.