—as if its live weight is there

beside my hand

but with a Korean meaning I cannot fathom
(each creature battered, vulnerable, caught,

carries un-read meanings marked across

a manuscript of sinew, scar and muscle)
I read on into your poem as I might look at a river

new to me swirl and go—

its branching nature and sandy stretches

its islands older

than the eternal water birds posing on them

barges too that plow it for centuries

and along its banks: the river’s creatures plugged in
Your poem braced upon its phrases

arches across the continuous river of itself
Two shapes competing in grace

one given to Heraclitus

the other to the atomic permanence of presence
Talk to me about divided rudeness
The river wants an arching earnestness

while the bridge longs for the river’s playfulness
Then you say context—

is where meaning lies
The river’s flow a flow of imagery

and the bridge a place to be
I imagine

I can understand everything you say

as long as I can go without that rudder of logic

and hold my vertigo in check
Poems cannot show what comes before the poem
Carp, surprising carp

—priest, invader, monster, finny angel,

it might not matter

your dark mouth agape

that you’ve been thrown back into the poem

still unknown
Rivers beyond

their fragile springs, bright falls and secret forest pools

reveal a blind and headlong reaching into lowlands

as they pour themselves deep and deeper into seas as deep as time
Carp, I read and wonder

at the mechanism of the river