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Crow considers Heraclitus (part 2)
“No man steps in the same river twice.”
He saw a picture on Facebook this morning
One of his high school girlfriends
Now an old woman, wrinkled, grey
Which of course means he’s an old crow
He wouldn’t have recognized her on the street
All those kisses, their tongues wrestling
The image at once both distant and near
A pocket of warm water in a cold sea
Nothing can really be separated out
As if a kiss could have a beginning
Or an end, as if diffusion wasn’t
A necessary component of reality
Just like the lines of this poem
That leap from what you know to what
You hope you will know in time
A hawk diving among swallows
A garden spreading through the neighbor’s lawn
The past an invasive species
All angles going this way and that
Echoes of the future fluttering
In branches needing to be pruned
Into everything that was/is given
The mind mere persistence, pushing
For a shore seemingly close at hand
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