I wallow under bridges

connecting towns

to the whole of humanity.

I search for a God there

in the empty darkness.

Not even the bums move.

Nobody is disturbed by my presence.

I see only muddy water

I cut myself

I watch myself

bleed—the water turns red—

I part the sea

Mud oozes between my toes

I am a basket-case, like Moses

I reach into the soil, and make my own god

a formless



that doesn’t smile

and stinks.

Love is that red and brown color

I have put my life into.

The whole town knows,

the bums belong under the bridge

the whores belong in the brothel

the students belong in the school

the good people belong

and the bad people belong

Nobody is out of place

but me

I am tested by society

the suicide stands at the top of a tall building

contemplating jazz

the drug addict would rather know the needle

than their next-door neighbor.

If love is an art,

most of the world is ugly.

I listen to a sermon

and I hear a different one

inside my head.

Thank God.

7 thoughts on “River God

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