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River-flow
June, 2021
I would like to see
in this dry blind country
water run beneath
a bridge, a river heading
somewhere, maybe to the sea.
And I would like to go.
Take me like that broken
branch, plastic bag,
newborn discarded,
rushing toward the sea
content to float along
together. This after all
is the world I once
inhabited, ate from
and lived off, ignorant
of woe, but made
of the same stuff. Water
wings and blind eyes will
find the way to heaven.
Or to hell. God is
an equal transportation
provider, fluid as water.
2021
Table of Contents
My Father's Eyes
Purple Skirt
River-flow
Cerne
The Lone Ranger...
Covid Days
Flor de Mayo
Flowers Fall
Plumeria
Priapus
Storm-Troops
Trees and Night
More Poetry
The Agave Files
2020
2010 - 2019
2001 - 2009
20th Century
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