Monday, September 2, 2024

poem

 The Names of Rivers

The rivers take their names to the sea

If it was true we never died

You’d never know if what

Seemed to be happening

Was really happening

For the very first time 

Or was just another dream 

About a certain early fall afternoon

Re-occurring in the infinite timeline

Of a cursed immortality

Which can foster a certain 

Anxious foreboding of an ancient

Dread that what was happening

Now was just the necessary prelude winding 

Around back again to the day of your birth

When the waters of the Ganges

Became known as the Mississippi


9/2/24

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