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River Crossing


There, where stones populate
the underneath, splay
rain as it blends & stops
being rain, raises the river,
water into water, stone
into soil, too slick to stand
or walk, too wide to freeze
or span, to cross you must
swim, the current a visible
instance of movement:
you'd enter the water here &
if not pulled under
would emerge so far down-
stream the crossing'd require
another journey entirely,
on foot, over uncertain terrain,
over what, through ownership,
through deed, is called property,
thus encroachment, thus trespass.
The mind, though, can cross,
along with the eye (where it can see).
The body, my dear, counts for
so little—nothing, really—here.


Brian Henry

A Public Space

Issue 14 - 2011


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