the old river
paint
timeless wrinkles on mothers face

muddy river
meet
the clear flow of your young brother

fresh river water
cleanse
the ***** innocence in a clean bacterial mouth

river of innocence
tell
an old story to clean sheets yellowed

river of youth
run
bubbling eyes afraid of the cold bed
run
mother waits with her own river tale dry
run

the buddhist river
exist
dharma is the great nonexistent universe

brooklyn ferry
hold
a river of souls above rough water

river of one thought
be
ancestral water bathing all without time

oh river water
roll
where no soul can feel your roll
roll
eyes of your grandchildren are dreaming
roll
beautiful nothing is the flux of life
roll

the old river tells the youngest stories
the river babe of snow tells the oldest
of mountains unable to stop growing with arthritic slopes
the stories are the same
   old
   young
   flux
the story goes like this:

Spring creeks born from infinite knowledge
gaining speed
riding cloaked horses that show
Peter in the stained glass surface

young creek
carry
salvation price televangelists can't match
melt bullet proof screens between altar and flock
wash the old mans feet

Summer river border
bring
fresh water to stagnant minds
earthly limits can yield no nutrition
salt smooths David pebbles to fly straight

Journeys from the Abaddon threshold
(leave the salt behind)
riding
clouds like the cloaked horses to stained glass Peter
past our own existence watching self hematophagy
all things are one

Fall crosses river styx  
until we are wise enough to take the coins from our eyes
see
his lonely gold coin fall from the mast
economists miss the beauty in a negative *****

Cold winter brooks
forget their age
babes no longer baptized in ***** whale heads
no longer giving squeeze to oil that fights the freezing point of time
no longer running from the mouth that carries you west
are we anchored to god or do billions of monkey ropes join to give him life

The sun sets the red west ablaze, the east darkens to deeper shades.
****** green heads lie
in between know nothing and say nothing
and now the nether looms large
on the shallow forest of thought.

A lagoon of time  
A Basho frog sleeps on the shore, silenced
by submerged vibrations of Moloch
The very name nestled in its *****
unable to be replicated by shades, just names;
Iron aye-aye claws
Disgendered cole.

Stars fight the night
Flashes run from far and join.
The storm's desultory violence
has not color but a voice;
The sound of absent light.