Now I can do anything.

The mountain-trembling thunder
   erupts behind the mulberry tree.

My mind can stop the world it legislates
 and then start up again, the blue sylph
on the water-fracture—the tiny
   ripples over the tiny stones.
                                               Nobody
knows who I am. No
body knows
who I am. 

How the rain dumps—
   effervescent water-froth—how the house lights flicker.

Don’t make too many distinctions—
   or make them all—
   go all the way—
the water from its sources
   broken into a thousand
   minuscule rivulets—

And when the waters join and distinction ceases—

       Walk away in the night, all power forgot