i never met a
driftwood poem
i haven't seen.
how can you
straight brow numb clasp not break, just a little
when fibers float your eyes along
way, this way drift, tepid,
toward riverbank scenes moon drippings
crackling wilderness
moss mapped trails...
exhilarating risk, faint nature
hunting you in lonesome
scamper
cold
firelight, ash, quiet. smoke,
in a wet night.
one light log on a long river.
reflecting,
luring, places you've never been
through you
a million uncrawled poems
yet a word
is all you dream.
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