A quick right turn is accompanied by a shiver
Which just might balance the quivering intestines.
It is best friends, it is best friends…if we
Keep our eyes focused on the same horizon,
The locus is only half forward, half circled,
And it’s almost as if this river is natural..
It’s almost as if it’s course was cut before it’s spring was opened.
The salmon drive stealthy…relentless to the pressure,
Thinking that in conflict there might emerge something fresher,
Fresher than telephone calls with Alice
As she faced the looking glass
Or the crass manner of reaching for
An always-empty chalice.

But the shiver in itself was enough to explain his expectations
And the gaze of something greater gave him visions of creation
Shelter from the storm
Her silhouette has him splintered
Splintered in hope and doubt that the fates beat the furies