the river 11

low tide and crows patrol this mucky shore

a seal is swimming passably far upriver

across the slack water, tall banks reveal deep roots

a white horse is passing through that unearthly forest

the river 10

across the river appear eastern white pines of great solitude and silence.

in that darkness rests a sleeping crow—

it sounds no caws, no caws.


below, the grass remains ungrown.

above, there is no space.

in the middle is a spot of neither following nor face.

the river 8

blue silk sky, blue corduroy river

winter sun is shot through one

spilling flood lights on the other

unraveling that which seems undone

the river 7

across the current comes an eagle

no, a sizeable seagull, lands

a great blue heron, pterodactyl-

like a krishna yawps arise!

the river 6

the wind is forming waves and waves

arising in white caps as if unaware

that within its confusion of space and of water

a wave is not a wave—one’s river

the river 5

a sharp clear shower falls on the water

every drop is a point of light

the sky the rain the river—one

the sun in all as being none

the river 4

cloud cover begins to break and blue

divisions of sky appear as birds

take wing above a bridge across

the water flowing always flowing

the river 3

december water wilderness

with docks surrendered to the shore

and not a boat to wake the flow—

a graceful place reflecting space

the river 2

slack tide, no sun, enfolding clouds

the river reflecting every detail

spontaneously a breeze, bird, boat

ah the fun house mirroring begun

the river 1

i’ve lived by the river several years;

it rises with the tide, then lowers.

emotions laugh or cry, live and die,

this current flowing always within.