Drinking Wine Poems 3 - Francis Ford Fall

Scoping out the Tidal Merrimack 9/28

In just one week the leaves have greatly changed.
Along the river—colors in the water.
The last two years I’ve seen ten thousand herons.
Along the river—tides are ever increasing.

Apocalyptic leaves begin to fall.
What if high tide continues on forever?
I see a single heron standing still.
What if this sea change begets still greater change?



~Son Rivers 2007

Kimball Farm Corn Maze a la Tao Chien

Drinking Wine 2—After Tao Chien

The Maze

The thing is this: keep moving
fast as you can navigate
through ways of repetition
and that one interpretation
of the corn. Don’t lose
your ear for vision. Let your eyes
go silent. Taste the ground
and feel the crosswords written in
an alphabet not spoken.

~Son Rivers 2007

The Return of Son Rivers

Drinking Wine 1—After Tao Chien

Aware of the Waves

Sometimes I conveniently forget
I’m nothing more than energies—
not blood and guts or mind,
but quantum strings and waves
as infinite as all the seas.

Don’t get me wrong—it’s not at all
materialistic, as if I know
a centillionth of the facts,
but one of mystery
and feeling this experience.

The random reach of willow trees;
the tug of body hugging body;
the birth of river girls;
the dream of constellations;
coincidence and trains and stations.

~Son Rivers 2007