River-dreams

The river, she dreams of oceans,
of shallow ancient seas,
Paleozoic, of losing herself
before she carved these cliffs
from yearning. Her river-dreams
rise up from the canyons
and hang here in the branches,
pearling the early world
with water, oceans in air.
Muttering in sleep,
she runs the red of an old wound,
returning to the sea.

25/30: Rainstorm

From the foothills launch

a thousand proud-bowed ships. War

on the blue mountain.

River

River: a ribbon

wet with dye in a hundred

colors with no names