A Poem About the Water, Land and Animals of BC

I could simply give in                      

It is morning and I am kneeling

in the river that trembles my hand.

There is flesh in this morning,

the fragile of sockeye, living on

in winter where they should not live.

There is the beat of a hidden heart,

and the river gives and takes a life.

My hands grow ghostly

at the ends of my arms.

The flesh in them will not end today.

The blue-green knowledge

of nothing is: Sitka, cedar and sedge.

As though a coastline makes a difference.

A ragged place of feet in boots and laces

come free. Only the legs keep moving,

scattering salmon that should not be.

Their purpose is as ours: to make

an acquaintance and break

in water the colour of thought.

I could simply give in to making life.

My feet, trembled into nothing,

run red rocks from the basement

of time. They know no other

purpose than striding the Taylor,

the Elk, the San Juan,

any source of knowledge

that is passed to the tree

after it is passed through me.