Did you know that the ankh is just the timid
knot of Isis just the whim of a cartographer
mapping banks laid out like sweet
skin in sun?
It says, the river is a fat snake:
it moves like a snake,
and there is its bank,
and there its other bank,
that's what I heard anyway.
I don't write poems about lovers,
I write poems about natural phenomena.
there was a brief waterfall, a
glorious flood -untouchable-
outside of law--
and a sapping drought
and a river mouth closing,
--I'm just a human being--
a river mouth closing, and silence
(isn't silence so eery,
we are all small animals
in its fist, its dark fist--)