Jan 142015
 
		We wrote it
Feelingly in the fallow following water
We scratched it quick in quicklime
Tumbled words running in the sun only, all out of order,
		Words of life and rhyme.

		By the water
Lemony and brown and warm and lovely
Under the still, tall trees of noon
We raced and rambled our hours our days unlonely
		Straying late and soon.

		Little, little we knew
How silkily stalking our walks our woods was death
Sly and lithe in regular sneakers
While blind in the minutes of our timeless eyes the path's
		Pattern paced water that had no equal.

		We connected all
The faraway whites of the uncaught conning stars
We drew and called them by name
Told ourselves the tumbled stories, the high adventures,
		Tales of whence they came.

		By Milky Way's
White beard, by the sky's clotted unnavigable river
Beneath raven-tressed trees of midnight
We followed the constellations' endless chapters forever
		Companions of their light.
		
		Little, little we knew
And less in our wold's heavenly wandering cared
That Orion drew his sword
That death through the pensive leaves yet wandered near
		And listened to our words.

		We rowed on
Dazzled in the wayward spray of the clapping waters
Mute swans upon the surge--
We felt, not knew, the wavery rilling river's cool disorder
		Where its swelling branches merged.

		We let
The whelming carry us, the whelming water carry us
Endlessly onward as verse
While tree and bush and burning day went blurring in the rush
		Of the passing universe.

		Death swanned
Beside, rowing in the rapid waters' surging, hungry
And beautiful as tears;
The bucking canoe at ease eventually beneath us, steady
		As the sun's one stare.

		We penned
The happenstance pattern of our pacing days
With quicklime wits of reason
Lost in the lovely the lemon the brown, the water's lonely mazes
		While summer fell out of season.

		Beside the vocal
River raving, beside the crimped dusk's cold darkening
Beneath lean trees stripped of leaves
We heard the softening drip of winter voices harken
		To frost's disordered breaths.

		Our days erased
With willful ease erased like slipped mistaken words
Erased, while sounded the river-water
Behind us, and before us on the flood flowed the world
		With death pattering after.


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