Not Close To A River This Time

It has rhythm but is more like a tributary system ... fast to slow multiple feeding. Arriving at the same place. Refrain! Pulse! Working like tide marks rising. Refrain! Pulls back. Start from a shore not flowing. Pulse! Surging fluid ... as a darkwater body. Swimming wild thesis albatross. Every indigenous elder inside of surprising sensations. Stay right there, we'll be right back. That translucence moves like a squirming trompe l'oeil.

Middle points are where fluidity breaks. Each strong but arriving like curious items on a bedrock altar ( tablet table ) instead of dictator argumentative bends ... with red ears. Pulse! Refrain! Pulse! Go and knock on the door ... carry this forward stop arguing, witness. Get back into your body.

The quieter refrains are doing most of the social bridging. Cross from section to heartbeat, small as a female indigenous elder's breath between garden plants. Not transitions, just a phrase that connects the Child Spirit, moving with solidarity.

The Big Book will always be political. Stories and leadership and movements drawn parallel until they touch.

But there are honest all-sensory insights flowing underneath everyday: What do we want this to become, what it always is? A rabid body of mostly-still currents.