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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.
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