we all sing 

all of us,

(and you and me river)


songs about seas over stones.

is time of the essence

as you giggle green mosses,

wink sunlit kisses

as a poplar wades 

with you?

 she waves to me

and points the way 

beneath her

where amber honey pots lay


 dark champaign colored shadows 

i wonder…

can bees swim

and is she their queen?

what does it matter to polliwogs?

birth is of the essence.

you are all things green and 

i am all things dry….

you flood us with  mysteries 

like time

and why good and evil exist 

and why my skin flakes,

flakes like snow lost in desert niles.


 we are children 

who hate questions 



so we stop skipping rocks on

your hour glass waves.

like polliwogs turning 

into frogs 

and leather skinned lizards 

climbing off hot spots… 

we eyeball dry rocks 

pitch bitter boulders…

dream of damned up seas… 

while you whisper bits of

river songs… 

through wind blown 

splashing reeds

“Come what may 

………..come what may

………………………………..come what may

love swims strong as dashing seas”

some say…

you are a watery grave… 

so perhaps…

i only wish upon sparkly current stars

perhaps …i am as senseless 
as new polliwogs in early spring …

but life is of the essence 

so you will find 

me near my birthing place…

hatched in love… by splashing reeds 


by cupid’s river even

 in deep rivers… 

i choose to



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