Mississipp
A Poem for a River
Today I will find a reason
to go see the river.
I know that it offers me
comfort, in theory,
a calmness at least,
a communion;
to seek contact
as it quietly passes by,
without even whispers,
so close to where I live.
All the days of recent memory
inside this eggshell house,
my body and my abode,
I cannot tell the difference.
I know from experience
that it’s good to take a ride
or take a walk, just take a minute
to go there and take stock
of the moment, get attuned
to the flow, the unceasing
impermanence of it, the
indifferent and impervious
majesty of motion, and
wordless.
And I know
as creative inspiration
it reminds me to go, to not think,
to not indulge in think-ness,
to not see, to not hear, but to feel,
to let go of judgment
and just to
pass quietly,
relentless and hypnotic.
But knowing in theory
is not knowing, and
standing on the concrete shoulder,
gazing through branches of trees
and the passing barges
and the ferry terminal and the
prideful little skyline,
at the truth of the water,
as it forgets, it forgets, it forgets,
as it forgets each next moment
and it forgets,
is the reason for going to
see the river.
– New Orleans, 8 Sept 2020
