a four letter outburst

during the week
tides get traded in the open market
the unborn grow shadows of history before the wake
dream's hate camping on the banks
i ride many buses with solipsismal questions
of destiny

rivers, remember seeing rivers

when you were a child and think how they might still flow

today? or remember those rivers from years ago
and think they are still flowing?

i beg you to reduce the importance of this moment,
release the fire fly's into a handful of vertical diagram sounds
in the landscape under your dress
and gladly pay the ransom at the foot of the bed.