methylphenidate dreams

the water forced itself up through miles of rock
through all the dark resistant settling
and kissed the air and sky and light and life above

but so tired from its journey that its impetus
spread and lost its shape
flattened like a second meandering skin
across the surface of everything dry and waiting

this is not the way of men
they drink of water, but they hate and fear
its willfulness, its will-less-ness,
they tolerate its passage through towns
only when bound by concrete
and funneled belowgrounds,
in side-glanced channels or underfoot.

water without direction, exposed, is a thing despised.

***

i played with the water,
loved its burbling laughter,
entertained by its random clumsy touch.

but i live in the world of men
and man only recognizes what is in his own image
man only feels what resists him
with its own will and direction.

feeling nothing, no secret push and pressured flow,
i did a secret and unnatural thing
and changed the course and nature of the water
forever.

***

today it flows with direction and clarity
like a white line of intense light
there is a spark caught in its streaming
and a need to get somewhere, anywhere,
but in every moment, somewhere specific.

and, being a man, i recognize myself in it
and am happy for the moment.

for the moment, i do not wonder
if there is something lost
in what is gained,
i only know that now
this streaming brilliance
will be accepted in this world
channeled and directioned as it now is
now must be.