This river this time is too deep to cross
The boatman too is not to be seen
The currents are
stronger against my toe
In it flows many rivers
Hiding their heads in shrouds of sorrow
And I am one
And I don’t know how to row
And how to swim
And it starts somewhere behind my eye
And I know that many clear heads have conspired
Against the flow
I stand at the shore and watch it flow
Glowing and glistening as rivers do
The water is bad from the bad breath
Of uncultivated fields
And the mixing is never complete
And at the other shore
There is more grief
And so also on this
The fronds that talk to the river
Sigh in disbelief
This too was for naught
The flow of many years
The blooming of the absent flower
The floating carcass turns the bend
With it the flies and little fishes
And the flows that may have scalded it
Also are no more to be seen
The flow of the deep flaws in life
Has no ebb
And the tide is in
Should I cross the river?
The river is deeper
And I don’t know how to swim
The wood pecker has carved a hole
In its heart
And the river flows on
With a gorged out eye
The sparrows from their nest
No more see the cross
Or the crosser, and are all too cross
Why then the same river
And why then so many times?
The water is bitter
And the heart too weak to pump
The veins are too full
And arteries empty
And the passage is blocked
Because the time has passed
The boat has disappeared
And the carcass
Bloated and too full of rotten time
Will it reach some shore
And do it have someone
To go back to?
Or some place?
Or even a memory
That doesn’t scald?
The sky is a deep deep blue
And a seagull or green bee-eater
May still have been there
The ants are rising up with wings
For the bird of waiting death to cease.
And the carcass
Is it the boat that I was waiting for?
Does it have a third bank, this stream-
Or a fourth
Or is it a flow
In a flawless ocean
Without a shore?
I set out
On this journey
That never begins or ends
Though it is not clear
Whether it is noon or dusk.
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