a slow thunderstorm morning in bed
we try holding off the day, the river
a little longer like children
faking sleep on Christmas Eve
Tag Archives: river life
when at the start of summer
my wife makes deviled eggs and the mayflies have hatched on the wharf / the rain is warm like the spit of a thousand cynical angels / the wharf raccoon gets (re)caught / being between Derby and the State Fair, a couple of street folks sleep on the amphitheater steps near River Road / the only respite from rain is its unsatisfactory absence
Day 64, 2023
The currents etch designs in the water the way a toddler draws learning to make shapes. The original form is a formless writhing. Driftwood, lost thermos cups, and pieces of Styrofoam are carried on the shoulders of formlessness making breaks in the river that look like the first scratchings of pen to paper.