No Particular Place to Go

Sit by the river long enough
And the bodies of your enemies will fall
Like ripe peaches and float by
On their way to the water works and the romance
Of translation through the sluices, gates, the valves
And levers passing through the words on the other ear.
Move, and honey dominoes into the price of honey
Sticky in a web that quivers across civilizations.

In the fading light of old photographs without people
It’s easy to lose the horizon and find yourself
Liberated from love and the future.
Tonight you’re sitting on top of the world
Where there’s not a lot of room and ripeness is all
And you are afraid of ideas before they even arrive.

R. D. Girard | Mudlark No. 21
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