What can the river say
it's old
a "blue mist" river.
Before he dies,
no misery, says he
recall a river.
What he was has washed away -
soft down now where thicket grew -
His piss flows
clear jade green, a summer color
from warm clay pools round the groin
(where tall grass to wood stood), sways
now soft algal down in
late night sweats.
no regrets
rocking smooth
soothe fear
this man
was copper country
where skin and metal
met water once
in him
as rock
not smooth but tough
all quckened sex and bones and blood
true
his body now
bruises black into blue.
A flood
up north!
midwest
in his chest
a storm
he remembers lakes,
and his sister as true mother,
remembers
dark warm springs and ice,
other seas of excitement and exploration
of drifting remnants and edges
of stones and water
before this rift between his body and desire
still
you see his body soft now with drugs and cancer
there's a hole in his temple, an empty pond
he washes every night
still
he can hear the water of him in it
in pond and bone
cancer
as he's flowing downriver
as all do
when is the end?
each day's accumulation of down and slip
of other special flowing, piss and blood and bile
finally this smooth blue mile
will become him
and black and algal too
and then
for an hour
or a day
he will sluice
memories and a dream
to rise and fall
loose
forever
his moist body
into a river
it's old
a "blue mist" river.
Before he dies,
no misery, says he
recall a river.
What he was has washed away -
soft down now where thicket grew -
His piss flows
clear jade green, a summer color
from warm clay pools round the groin
(where tall grass to wood stood), sways
now soft algal down in
late night sweats.
no regrets
rocking smooth
soothe fear
this man
was copper country
where skin and metal
met water once
in him
as rock
not smooth but tough
all quckened sex and bones and blood
true
his body now
bruises black into blue.
A flood
up north!
midwest
in his chest
a storm
he remembers lakes,
and his sister as true mother,
remembers
dark warm springs and ice,
other seas of excitement and exploration
of drifting remnants and edges
of stones and water
before this rift between his body and desire
still
you see his body soft now with drugs and cancer
there's a hole in his temple, an empty pond
he washes every night
still
he can hear the water of him in it
in pond and bone
cancer
as he's flowing downriver
as all do
when is the end?
each day's accumulation of down and slip
of other special flowing, piss and blood and bile
finally this smooth blue mile
will become him
and black and algal too
and then
for an hour
or a day
he will sluice
memories and a dream
to rise and fall
loose
forever
his moist body
into a river
