The River by Robin Stout


Dali's Metamorphosis of Narcissus 

Robin Stout / The River


Tannins turn it golden-brown, like tea.
rowers dip their oars, like me.


Siddhartha learned with bended knee
to listen to the waters flee.


River waters flee, across to the sea
taking with you, my heart's key.


From swampy beginnings, we
zig-zag a path, like bees.


Currents exact from me,
currents exact no small fee.




(c) Robin Stout 2011




















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