isle to isle

When I visit the boat
When you undo the lines
Tight cleats laid slack
Nose off and float
Down the channel
Wile I secure the painter on
So the prop isn't fouled
Under way
We idle in the lee
To watch the stars
Innumerate and precessed beacons
Inscribed on the black water
The bow asleep
The stern awake

when life gives you lyme's

the stickers
are thick
with ticks
bite your dick
make you sick
c'est la antibiotics

clinton's pitch

about that scouring
its just up to the hern now
hungry in shallow water
they pulled the plug at the other

end of the river
the invasive ospery
swoops spraying feces and malcontent
on the tern
and even the black cormorant is lack lustre
in this state.
those others they come on
rafts running international flags
zebra striped, hired mussels wielding razors
here to turn out carpetbags
full of gobies 
that swim and teem and froth and gobble
in this now tributary of clinton's ditch

february marsh april may

what must have been
cattails once or another
was the first beaver catalyst
to damn the wide
with eight sticks either stones
to hem and glaciers gone


 

april has its squalls

a prim nose though
wet with snow
drips sniffles and so

bow at the waves
bid them I do
to scatter and freeze
on pine needle feet
hung close to the river
the rocks content to sleep

11:55

night closes from top to bottom
as motions meet
the lid seals
keeping light out cast
creeping west
to prize east

pines

the sharpest
in the woods
lives under rocks
and chatters about
trees and leaves
piling poo
piled needles
two feet deep

a march

open water save for ducks
breezey laps streak back
and forth
edges froth
willows jostle and close
the barrier between sky and river

m2

the mud is waiting
to be corralled by roots
growing strong
hemming the pond

m1

before blurry green
moss floor soft
caps float over
rock thoughts