Exasper

Exasper

Was a dream, knocking on
    commemoration’s door, partially closed.
I can see, through the crack, partly.
I know it is there, but I can’t remember it—
something about a ship—
or I know—
a boat.  Oh yes! 

On a river!

I float, calmly, in a secluded scene, of glorious
    trees and sandy banks; and blue water,
sighing and looking up at the clear blue sky,
free of all obstructions, in the middle of the river,
hearing my heart deem:

“how nice.”

Yes, I remember—
floating there, centered there,
    caressed by the proud rays of the sun,
finally free of the worry in me,

when I perceive
another boat floating there, all alone, drifting
upstream from me. 

Upstream . . . .

“How nice,” I breathe again, feeling serene enough
    to share my serenity with another,
and I return my Self to the sky,
where I perceive a lonely cloud. 

But the other boat seems to be
coming right at me, and I sit up.

“It’s coming right at me,” repeats my mind,
so I toss out a “hey” . . . . . .

but I am not respected with a reply—

“Damn” says the mind,
and throws another “Hey!”

With still no reply my mind stiffens,
then hurls an “ahoy!”


Soon I am on my feet, balancing myself with an
    old unused wooden oar,
yelling, and shaking my fist. 

“What a jerk!”

Yet the boat keeps coming, silently at me,
coming at me until it crashes right into me.

And as my anger ducks away,
back into its
    crazy creepy corner of my old wooden boat—
I notice the other boat is empty,
holding nothing but a taught rope,
apparently connected,
down through the clear blue water—

to an anchor.




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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"