rivers of...A Poem by h d e rushin
Does a river ever prove anything, save magnetism or solace? Can it offer a cure as it's relationship to planets, dada istic gesellshaft; mud baths to make the waist smoother? Any Hindu salves from it's fish spins for the organization of secrets? Rivers can, and do dry up. They flood themselves like Grandmothers incontenence/ her town in the country. They carried her out, the big men in a boat, on their shoulders like a serape of leather, yet she would never admit to being rescued. Spoke only of the sound of the motorboat hissing; of how leaving a place you love leaves a smell when it's wet. But I didn't believe her. © 2014 h d e rushinFeatured Review
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3 Reviews Added on February 23, 2014 Last Updated on February 23, 2014 Author
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