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Monday, April 15, 2013

River

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riled the shore like bullheads

we boys in our beauty

our      un-reason

in cat-whiskered depths

and clam-bottomed shallows

grown

now graying

down-stream eyes

fixed

on one more bend

the snags, the slowing

we love too late

     the pull ahead

     the bullhead

can’t resist

the      insist

of

coming      season


~ Ralph Murre

note: first line (italicized) is by Lorine Niedecker


Ralph Murre is a recovering Wisconsin farm boy who has taken to poetry instead of plowing, since the pay rate is about the same, and the females involved tend to be human rather than Holstein.  A Baileys Harbor resident and long-ago East Side Milwaukeean, his books to date are Crude Red Boat , Psalms , The Price of Gravity, and, most recent and co-authored with Sharon Auberle, Wind Where Music Was

 

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