I met a man who knew rivers,
rivers seeded along shores in young dawns,
shadowed by a sphinx,
winding through seven hills,
spotted with levees on the delta in the south.
He knew rivers, rivers different yet the same,
coaxed into submission
bounded by silent meanders,
braced to yoke and dam.
They were different, he and the rivers,
yet the same,
for he was bound and brown
and so were the rivers.
I met a man who knows rivers,
rivers, muddy, slow, fickle,
seeded along shores in an older dawn,
flickering in the shadows of a flaming cross,
flowing between concrete ghettos.
They were different, the man and the rivers,
yet the same,
bound and brown.
The man I know, knows rivers.




















17 old applause
