I begin these poems from journal entries made in small, black books before I noticed time flowing by me faster than a rapid river. Now I return to learn the wisdom for the day by dipping fingers in the moving water of what went under the bridge so long ago. I dance with suffering servants who have come down from their cross. I laugh with laughing, fat monks carrying bags of gifts over their shoulders. I bring other divines together to see how close they lay upon one another. I do all of this to discover once again that there is nothing on the other side of wishing for what I should have done.