For jiingo geshik

Watching people die in little tiny pieces,
Little pieces that go unnoticed or
Appear to be confetti as they tumble by.
I never saw the fragments until after
The final piece drifted aloft without a sound.

String Theory

Gray sky gray river gray mountains beyond

A red hyphen on the corrugated surface

Of the incoming tide briefly

Joining my string of time and space and thought

Before the kayak slips away and our strings move on.