As the River and the Sea
are to Rivulets and Streams

"Only when it is cut are there names.
As soon as there are names
One ought to know that it is time to stop.
Knowing when to stop one can be free from danger.
The way is to the world as the River and the Sea are to
rivulets and streams. " – Lao Tzu, from Tao Te Ching









Too fine a day.
To waste on details, detritus
to clean up every crack
of the courtyyard
out back – itself now aglow without my help,
first thing that comes
to mind is not more of this
more of that, but subtraction of things,
pull out a few bricks
relearn love of earth again,
get hands wet,
and so set kayak
up on my back and walk
across the green
to old friend Yahara
plumb and ripe – a flowing fruit.

and paddle over boatswell rivulets
to Starkweather Creek
where old bridges span
over duckweed wraps,
motors like choking lions
spin off the landing docks
black carbon swirls
up through the unknowing
giddy leaves of cotton trees.

I look into the neighborhoods
to either side of the creek.
Old houses asleep.
Cars twenty years old
at ready outside back doors.
Garbage cans at curbs.
Hiding up in a little muddy
cover of river bend ahead
little family of city ducks
line up at the breast wings
of ma and pa

and don't move into phosphorous
water until
the giant blue floating leaf
passes ten feet by

not a trace
of me
left