Liquid Origami and Other Poems

We believe we know, each seeing
Who folded these deep seams and lines
In the very fabric that we are.

The rivers of our times flow through
The spaces so folded; minds
And loss' panic scorch the seams,

To feel the hands on the axis
Bringing the deep existence in
To the lines adored and forming.

Believing, we know
Where the folds are made.
To become the river-driver

Answers the fury
Of the plain sheet
Of beginnings.

Riding the river steals your days;
Reading the folding leads
Beyond the eternal belief--so
We know.