Good way off, past blindness
trickling fingertips felt plunks.
Sedimentary stirrings next to
running brooks dipped into
for pleasure of touching
algaecide inside the head.
And memory impresses gunky
regions explored, faculty of
retaining wet sandy banks,
the murk of his adolescence.
How what was told of who to,
or who not to, or what not to,
that, was only left with more
unanswered question. Just
mire. So the feeling out had
little guidance and quicksand
became lesson planner.
Wonted informality, such sinking,
became hook, shot, and sweet tooth.
These habits took his teeth
and no longer could he chew.
Drivel and flattery became much the
same, his purging, alluvium.
Men can only spill out, what fed.
Eventually mountains' rivers carry peaks to valleys.
I'm thinking a lot of the wearing thin of, how men once boulders are reduced to sand. I once knew of a particular boulder along a particular river that never moved. Particularly hard rains came one year, and I discovered that boulder much further down river that spring. I guess all things are a matter of particulars.