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The River Pathos

January 29, 2013

Restlessly coiling over

the Earth like the Serpent,

River Pathos is our Atlas,

carrying us aloft on its back

with irrigation detours for our stomachs.

Recepticle for disposals and dispositions,

it is often lazy, sometimes enraged,

at once far and near,

always coming, always going.


Endlessly roiling over

itself, bubbled up from the deep,

Pathos is renewed presently under the Sun.

It evaporates in minutiae, and feels,

low and heavy, under the barometric,

the air as claustrophobia,

sharing timor dei with all

the rest of creation.


The river Pathos comes

to mind like a shadow

in value gradients from my dreams,

forever making its way down with sorrow toward the ocean.


From → Poetry

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