Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Day 287, the curve of the red

I know how she feels
The way the edges of her
Definition melt, the constant motion
A persistence her soft silt skin
can not resist
The way everyone else sees her
Only as low and high or
How much can be fished from her
She is a rapid force of inconsistency
Her giving, yielding soul colliding
With some unseen urge to just move
We are kindreds in that way
Me and the River Red
I understand some little bit
Why The eddies of her soul
Are unpredictable.

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