By The River
It was there
by the river
where I laid
bone-crushed tired.
Where the soap berry
grew wild
and only old women
knew its worth.
By the rocks
on which land crabs
buried themselves
behind earth.
Baby's breath
pours over hills
where hoofed hollow-horned
grass eaters graze.
The weeping willow,
with narrow leaves
borne in catkins
harrows its melancholy,
as if the river
would grow
in abundance and flood.
The perennial reeds
fan out on both sides
presenting illusions
of sensuality.
Here,
where I have come
to loose my youth,
my innocence
by the river,
as a feather star,
or sea lily,
breaking out
off the bulb
into a full grown martagon.
I disappear
bone-wretched
petrified
on this river pool
as a wilted star gazer.