east south and to heavens
flow of my river east south and to the sky my death song drifts in a child s canoe over the cataract eye to hot eyes of returning water coming from below separating muscle from bones i sing this song brightly behind the cockpit of men pushing the roar of an arrogance down runways down again always we fly to a stop to the east we fly to the ocean and through our rivers of mountains ghosts of the mothers cry where we must fall where we must give the crying back to live i cry the word backwards head back with my words with all that i have to give with all that i am worth and do this every time and never die but once when now is a good day and once was the timei always have to write a poem before i get on the plane Written March 29th, 2002 © on Mar 29 2002 03:14 AM PST, Frederic Jacob Gutknecht IV 0 • 13
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"flow of my river..."