The mind is a sieve—rain falling
water seeks its own level
& dammed during the spring flood
it loosens debris from riverbanks
only to clog the mouth with ideas.
Someone must sort the flotsam
from the jetsam before we can speak
of things important—why pulsars implode
and why black holes are hungry for more light.
Each seeks an opposite. Light seeking dark,
dark seeking depth. The blue eyes of oceans,
the first memory of sky loosened
from a field of chickory or was it
the other way around? But will your green eyes
seeking my riverbeds suffer drought.
Already my lips seeks the small hands
of rain to quench the thirst from the fire.
4/89
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