This Is Not Water

There's a merging

where I hide deprived

A combining of a toxin

that feels like water

in a desert

But is not water

There's a river

flowing peacefully toward it's source

That guides and carries me

A community

Not of one or two

or three

  

Letting Things...

There are those things

so many

ratcheting toward agitation

I collect them

sorting, labeling

Until they bury me

and I can't find myself

in the accounting, calculating focus

That excludes

every part of the seconds

that make a day

true

I imagine them

    drifting from view

  

Carried Away

Five, no ten

fingers outstretch

Transported

riding time's stream

seems

traceable

          apparent

You plus me

Hands unclench

emptied

For what

time has certainly carried away