River Fragments: A Hydraulic Self Portrait

Was aber jener teuer der Strom,
Weis neimand

— Hölderlin, Der Ister

1.

We swim fathoms
for our life

over a nameless
body

running against backwards
seeming currents,

imposing persona
on the air,

personified embodiments
of how we’d like to be

remembered
by water.

The sea speaks
Moon perfectly well.

The moon is fluent
in Ocean. Hey, listen,

if there’s something happening in your orbit,
I need to know.

II.

What then is a river
if not a hymn,

if not a reverted tragedy
running backwards?

The malachite tinted geyser
catches cathartic

midday light.
An interstitial double helix neon sign

flickers pity and fear
at night.

We feel nearer
to what’s really happening in life.

But don’t think it’s all beer and skittles. Honestly,
honey, it’s a bit of a miracle

I made it this far
without all the psychedelics.

As for Aristotle, it’s…