24 November 2024

By Philip Kuepper

I row the reflection
of a boat that sits
at ease in the absolutely
still river,
my thoughts my oars,
that think the boat into motion.
I have no need for the mere material,
no need for the physical
boat, physical oars.
Even the physical river is not
a necessity. My mind lives shed
of what my hands need hold,
and lifts my hands away from the tangible.
Row. Yes, row.
Yet row at the level
that has elevated the rower
beyond the hold of the tangible,
where wood and water, where all form
has fallen away.
And all is become pure function,
freed from the rope of time.

(15 November 2024)