All night I float
in the shallow ponds while the moon wanders,
burning, bone white,
among the milky stems.
Once I saw her hand reach
to touch the muskrat's small sleek head
and it was lovely, oh,
I don't want to argue anymore
about all the things I thought
I could not live wtihout!
Soon the muskrat
will glide with another
into their castle of weeds,
morning will rise from the east
tangled and brazen, and before that
difficult and beautiful hurricane of light
I want to flow out across the mother of all waters,
I want to lose myself on the black and silky currents,
yawning, gathering the tall lilies of sleep.
Looking west, I see the pink glow of autumn sunset.
Looking east, the moon is rising over the mountains.
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