Softly, on a river
flesh merging with water
laughter like birds in the sky
trees hugging the tunnel of our passage
all in eleven-sixteenth time. . .

sunlight dripping through a roof of leaves
fish feeding
as we pay homage
to the river gods. . .

transcend this body
this soul of matter
this vessel, bursting for love ‹
let me be the bird
swooping to the river
wrestling the sky
for food. . .
let me be the tree
roots furrowing
leaves growing
silent, and silent alone. . .

I have tried for too long
to drink without a swallow
to gag on the substance
of what I see,
when instead,
in eleven-sixteenths time,
I should be
what I feel.