I had a dream last night—
or many—
but when one started and one finished
is impossible to say,
like a thought—
a small part
of an entire stream
of thought.
A river.
You just can’t point at the thought
in the stream
and say,
“there it is.”
—On its way around the bend
to the next bend in the creek,
to the river to the mouth to the sea to the sky—
to the ground to the spring to the stream again.
But you can take a small wooden
unified balanced and connected ladle,
dip it into that stream,
and sip on the cool nourishing
fluid liquid thought—
your Poem.
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This poem is from "Bottle in the River"
about a Poet's journey down a river, chasing a bottle
tossed by the fingertips of "that I am."
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Written within the parameters of the theory of "Multivalence"
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