Heraclitus (for Kevin)

Ποταμος τος ατος μβαίνομέν τε κα οκ μβαίνομεν, εμέν τε κα οκ εμεν.

We both step and do not step in the same rivers. We are and are not. DK B49a

The thing is, Heraclitus,
that it splashes,
sometimes sucks
at your ankles or your insurance premium;

could drown you, more or less predictably, in spate.

That much we know, and it affects us
with that rush
of the chronic and stuck
insistence of the of-the-moment, its whim

to ignore us, suddenly; the mind

is left stuck
in its tracks
where it’s trying (poor
mind, it must be lonely) to see

its own footsteps in the soft mud

of the river bank
(eroding)
certainty and words
eroding, while in the playground of the light

they’re always running off, the others,

in their own games
(always) and
yet notwithstanding
(least of all with standing)

the thing is