Enter the open mouth.
Two storied house, once owned by Carver.
Smell of ink. Ghost rush of feet.
Walk the path inside my dream.
There in full throat thunder glory
the bluing, rushing band of whoosh -
A New Path to the Waterfall.
Stand water-awed in Ray's backyard.
The pulling wet foams tender paths.
Positive ions. The water draws.
Hear the tissue woodcut vista:
ink is falling in Ibing's Niagara.