At the River
No one reads this corny stuff,
so why bother
as we gather round the river …
There are negatives to eliminate.
One night we will step onto the lucid roof
and take refuge in space
and the brisk pieties of death.
That tree will shine when I am gone,
Those lips kiss another.
My going disturbs no one.
When I think of you,
when I remember angles,
idioms, a mole on your neck,
it’s as if I am looking down from a great height,
it’s as if I am the last person on earth,
a crazy man lashed to a mast,
tossed by the indifferent sirocco.