The Ripples Are Confused



The river runs grey today

Echoing the action of clouds

They move, as it runs

We are underneath, on the banks


The river is smiling at us

This leads to a flood of sky

Movement, on the way

The flow can’t be trusted


We are on the coast

Our houses hidden inland

The moss, on the roofs, built

Of Branches reaching overhead


We dip our hands in the cold

Our lawns, the frozen current

Left to grow gray, abandoned

A false green, wanderlust concrete


The ripples are confused

The river is bent under will

We are dams and dikes

The grey is always today, always was


The sky brushes against our skin

The river seeps, never asleep

We pave the damp ground

Our Roads are wet ribbons


Tar bubbles and pebbles

We magnify our stagnancy

Tires circulate, escapeless

Rocks embedded in tread


Our faucets are rainfall

Foothills filter our lives

The stream, captured, moves

We are but ripples, confused


12 thoughts on “The Ripples Are Confused

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