Friday, April 12, 2013

The River

I am no Tennyson to capture the river in words
My camera works fine for that
But I imagine were he here
He' DL Lawrence to this river as I do
Feeling it must be enchanted
In a Rowling way.

There's something in the sound that's Mozart
Mixed with Beatles and Bob Dylan
Odd how that is
A river bringing all the history of a person to bear.
I am moved by this river as Buddha was moved by his.
Not the same, not the same, but in my personal way.
I can not look at water as Peter did
After the Lord made him walk on such.

But I can imagine conspiracy theories
In the countless voices of this gurgling mass
Rushing to the sea
As we are rushing to the sea
With so much landscape to comment on
And so much movement between each molecule

There is wonder in a river
This is shallow and fast
And tears the heart out of the land to either side of it
Wearing it down like Marx
Or any political writer convinced there must be movement
The banks are carried away perhaps less by revolution
Than the comedy of Stuart McLean
I hear such laughter at times

Through the day it changes too
The blues and whites and greens
Turn darker with the evening and seem a Mahler
or Rachmaniov whereas in the afternoon the sound was Bartok
The words are always Tennyson though
If one listens as Walt Whitman might

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