Fluvial

fluvial curve in the desert
red handprint on the wall
in time the people are dreaming
of children and laughter,
the palm in the hand, bright
water spraying in sun

here dust swirls - the
unforgiving cliffs frown at us
and all the stretching silent
land slumbers in regret and
time:  here the dry rules:
	tornados come and go,
tumbleweeds spin

I hear the roar of the river
in my mind, watch the white
moving mist rise and turn
turn again as it congregates
to itself, becomes cloud,
hangs before the trees -
challenge

there all is red and gold -
sun rises, sun goes down,
small lizards scuttle and
once in a blue moon
a beautiful flower opens
to the night, born of pain

the fluvial dust flows with
memory - curves still there,
where water once moved, silt
is sand here, windblown

memories in caves are silent -
prints of animals, trees, people
with limbs - how

I wonder what we are for
with our bad roads, our
far-seeing delicacies that take
us out of our minds - on the
other side of town the homeless
huddle against wind and

rain, the fluvial flow full of
scum, cigarette butts, piss, 
vomit, empty promises,
broken dreams, broken hearts
and lack of care
slips down the drains like shit.

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