Sea Saw

Sea Saw

Acknowledging the flow and current
pulling us to the edgeless sea.

Turning down a tributary,
a dead end becomes our see-saw.

For the dead end finds us rising and falling.
There's an up and down to it, an in and out.

A rising and falling, a starting and ending.
A seeking and finding, a searching while drifting.



I was drifting, floated through the concept: "here."
into the question, what?

Heard an answer: this! Followed by "yes," and "easy,"
drifting steadily through, to okay.

Only to return to here again,
searching for the question, what again.



Searching still, we find more questions,
speaking out about the edge of the river.

Does the past-present meeting place
show the farce of symmetry?

Does this spring commence a whirlpool,
the torrent leading to the river?

Does the river end within the sea
where the ocean seems so never-ending?



I end up balancing on the bitter beach,
while drinking iced recognition—

the more I chase this steadiness
the lesser I will see the sea.

And with my hands held to my side
I plunge back into the waking flow.

Back to here, to what, to this, to yes, to
easy, to steady, to okay . . .





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This poem is from "Bottle in the River" 
                    about a Poet's journey down a river, chasing a bottle
                    tossed by the fingertips of "that I am."
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Written within the parameters of the theory of "Multivalence"