Thirty

Rivers carry debris until floods release ghosts

So the dead can make deposits and withdrawals

Planks, fallen branches, corpses of fish, fowl, mammals and dreams

Become ghost ships carrying organisms to new destinations

With water as medium the dead and the undead sally forth as equals

 Two: 

Good River Feeling Bad

 Her voice is deep water

Though she’s too shallow this year for ships

Her body more round than angular

When I ask her questions I get more

Answers than I know what to do with

She says her name in whispers

I know her by many names

And by the ranges she explores

When she sings

I know her by how she changes tunes

And carries her heart to the sea

Bare feet  

Wide bottom

She stands like Betsy and Billie and Ma Rainy

Belting blues in wordless conundrums

When she returns to actual lyrics

She sings:

The blues is a good river feeling bad

Her song carries ever-changing sameness  

While everything about her transforms

Banks

Depths

Ecology

Water

Running River

Reclaiming place