white water

i once heard the water say,
"i am packing a bag." we watch
a river eat itself. ghost snakes 
& a thunder mannequin. 
all i ever wanted was a raft 
& a bedazzled sky. sometimes the magick
doesn't work & you have to set fire.
you have to call upon the old gods
& the older gods until you are just
talking into a mirror. yourself 
in the cervix of the earth. lava
comes from the spigot. have you ever
looked at your life & seen 
a crumpled airplane? i cannot remember
the last time someone kissed me
how i want to be. like a strawberry
bitten from the bush. i'll grow out my hair.
i'll eat licorice & change my name.
bare foot in the field of glass.
the water promises a new television 
or at least a new devil. somewhere to dump
all of the dead light bulbs & words
that no longer mean what you want them to.
the unpass grows flowers that taste
like gasoline. we stand on the edge
of the river & watch its anger. it rages,
crying, "what am i doing?" it tears out
its own eyes & eventually, miles away
calms down. hold itself. rocks back
& forth. lets its blood run like milk. 
gets on the phone again. call waiting.
soon someone will pick up & say,
"congradulations" by which they mean
you are hungry & there is a vanilla wafer sun.
there is still a body or at least 
a field of berries where you can go 
& be as red as you need to be.