a thin film

for Rhiannon


Our marvelous rafts,
ghost ships, wandering
tides along floating branches,
insects, floating,
bursts of laughter

carried in from summer days
carried over the bends the groves the
oceans, memories
carried, folded
through sieves,
silk rivers light-folded for
a stone to stand, a hand to hold

a hand
as a breath held beneath
the absence
of bullfrogs,
‘neath turbines, engines, folded
cloth. Quiet
amongst thrushes, thin-rippled
summer days;

a marvelous glaze, our green
for golden days,
algae-thick brown eyebrows
sieved to light-folded
floating, simmering,
rafts floating
as the first words of laughter,

peals of laughter, marvelous
bellies of

wind-carried to a forgotten grove
we float, naked, quiet,
ghost futures wavering,
upon arrival.




Note: At the Marys River, Corvallis, as it washes into the Willamette.

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