Jumps or breaks into reality’s pocket. Uses of the drifting canoe, a thing carved from cheap plastic. Just breathing in the old draft, the same air that knows our song and plays checkers with death. There is a tool for blue teeth, for odd mixtures of river movement. It drifts on the turntable of nature. An explanation of forgotten algebra, where values tell narratives of food, filling their parenthesis with morsels. Sharp, words like sharp sticks, once living and now turning into dust. An analogy that gives itself up. The craft that picks the fruit that grows from the wet ground, where we make it into poems & eat it.