Talk about a busy beaver.
All day long the imagination builds her dam,
carrying a thousand and one phantasms –
mirrors and minnows, stars and scars,
boats and bales of hay,
French toast and French fries –
between the river’s banks.
By day’s end, the dam is done.
Images and forms and figures
have blocked the flow of the abstract river
and in the lodge the imagination can rest in peace.