John Arndt

 

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Many rivers

There are many rivers beneath this calm surface 
Raging currents, undertows 
Dry gulches, overflows 
Brief respites and spring thaws 
That fill the empty eddies 
With the silt of loved ones dead and living.  

There are many rivers running here 
Rivers with huge desire fish 
Rivers filled with spawn 
Rivers that carry the weight of seasons
Rivers that have no reasons.  

There are rivers that sing 
There are rivers that lead nowhere 
There are rivers that wither and dry up 
There are rivers that fill me 
There are rivers that do not even quench my thirst.

There are big rivers 
And small rivers. 
Rivers that are forgotten 
Rivers that cannot be forgotten. 
Rivers that dance 
Rivers that cannot dance.  
All these rivers flow inside
Tributaries leading nowhere 
Springs that spring into great behemoths 
Little dark, moist places 
Lost on the map 
Found inside.  
Rivers that I cannot calculate or predict.  
Rivers true to their course.

And there are rivers that hold great sorrow 
For the loss of youth and legs and bowels 
The exuberance of running 
And oh yes, dancing 
There is great sorrow in rivers.
These tears are a levee breaking.  

Many rivers are running here.  

The river that leads to you 
Is the river that carries me away.

Series of 250

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