A river received me well
my head floated
a bit,
my eyes sailed
around
I saw other floating
pictures

As long as I believed
that the river
was real
then the river would flow
and I would be buoyant
upon its shoulders

I sail on vast reflections
I could sink under the tapestry
of my youth and sleep there
I grant these images passage
wrapped in the bows of transmitted
light on the backs of mirrors.

I am a page
surrounded by a book
the eyes of chapters penetrate
consume and look
the whole essence of brilliance
is to celebrate
and to wrap
my voice and celebrations
and muffle my rationality-out!