Monday, February 14, 2011

This Week's Poem

A Pure River

Having escaped westward-
following the traditional headwinds-
finally I am resting,
eyes closed, upon the horizon,
exhausted from seeing
forever forward
and the dream of resurrection.

Below me coils
mountain water clear
and silent
which I know
must one day diffuse
with a world disordered –
salt and ship.

But for now
as in transparency.
as in a perfect pitch.

May my hands forever be
a pure river
I do not recognize.

-published by The Chaffey Review and in my chapbook, A Pure River

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