I think good things come from the south unimpeded by my demands about what is necessary or what will serve. The river delta is in the south. I feel its urge, impossibly ascending from subterranean origins. I place obstacles in the way but the river is a strong god. You will never coerce the river. In its brown water, something brushes against us, a branch, or was it living? It is gone. The river takes everything.
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Poems from Other Days
September 2021
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