The water wheel is slapping the river. The axleIs always thirsty that’s why the imminent plungeIts accompanying ashseems to be the ulfllmentO certain arousals. The turning happens becauseThe world happens, which is to say stars continueTo dri in the direction o the wind like a clusterO salt. The water, as you know, cannot beImmobilized. The concept o a dam is similarTo the concept o God. What will swarm will splinterTheir winking lights across the darkness, carryingTheir packets o discrete intelligence. Should weFasten our belie in such small things?The miracle is how the nearby village makes useO something that is there already: eveningsDovetailing leaves and carapace, interiorsO soness that constitute ruits, and the riverWhich is now ululating in a feld o stones.Animals, at the onset o unmediated dawn,Will drink rom it, water grasping their tonguesWhile the many-winged blue that has been in vigilWill disperse, revealing the soened buckets o wood.