Bret R. Crabrooke (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Rivers glow for two weeks overboard the stems
Of saplings:
Rivers down from her neck are gracing us with their
Effluvious ribbon:
Rivers down to cars and walkways under the terraces
Of the heartbeats of lovers:
Each segment of river a stupendous cord of music
With indiscernible tutors sitting along side her, panting out;
And the wonderful animals there,
Each with his own food and paws: and maybe a girl
Lost from a story book, or torn from another state of
Being, her feet naked and breathless beside the bend of the river:
Maybe she will go down into an apartment some day,
But now her eyes only look deeply into our river, as if
Hypnotized while every kind of animal you can imagine is
Nudging her to proceed.