The river flows,
it has no name.
I sit on its banks,
watching the water.
I am immersed
in time
relentless.
The beauty of it
astounding.
A mind-bending
simplicity.
The water churns,
the water ripples,
the water flows.
I sit. I watch.
I take in the river.
In time
I am the river.
are the pebbles in the stream marked by time
is it sharp or soft
wet or dry
watery or grainy
swallow: perhaps my mind is the disc of the moon
the vitamin in the pantry, the reflection in the mirror
the hole where the lost key used to sit
smoke rings float with a bouncy swirl
into the night velvet black
plush blindness of sensing skin
maybe I forgot my lines
maybe my dreams are my fears
maybe you are my savior
oona's looking glass 