Nobody's creekbed

songs, prayers, poetry, stories, art, photographs, moving pictures, fondnesses, tall-tales and meditations

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The Anterior Insula and Hwy W

Sunday, April 08, 2007

years spent in middling management
trying terribly to assess the situations.
day after day he steals into my office, my affairs,
and he makes a much better love to my wife.
that is the story of things,
but i have a river to build,
water to coerce,
i have a landscape to carve
and then boats to launch.
that is the story of cities and you and me,
that is the story in real time.

from the basement door i hear the wild call of natives,
sounds of things less defined,
less rigorously designed.
i hear these things being put to my family,
i hear mute responses from friends.
how now that is the story of things.
that is me in the well-worn pants,
that is you stretching on the floor—
we move our own ways toward our yawns.