The River, 1980

Click here to learn more about this book and how to purchase it.


Sleeping, we boarded a boat
that went drifting through our heads
down dark reflective aisles of
summertime water.

The bitterns and Spanish moss:
a Carolina dream.
Uneasy voices called out, too,
beyond the vegetable islets.

Floating, we were hand in hand,
and when our bed returned
it was as though the book had opened
to our reflective eyes.