John Amen The 2River View, 5.4 (Summer 2001)


I held fire and ice in one hand
and witnessed neither sleeping;
walked to the swollen river,
after the rain ended,
and painted myself with mud.

Gored by the horn of the bull,
I bled on wet moss,
offered my breath to the stones.

You should have seen me,
mother, on those red hills,
singing as I tore down fences.

Wisdom, like the wind, came in gusts.

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2River All is well.