i dream bridge dreams again.
the raging thompson river is high and fast, the black churn and undertow moaning, creaking.
they had to stop renting out the paddle boats because too many people fall in and someone drowned recently. the river is deep to the banks and the water is wild, just like the decemberists sang.
i dream bridge dreams, standing on the train bridge naked with my long hair loose down my back, whipping like tongues.
i feel the air and the rumble within my chest. i smell the creosote and the iron of the train tracks. dreaming of rivers leaves me restless and confused and i need double coffee the next morning and a good smudge with the goose feather i found at the park blowing in the wind.
brushing my hair and spirit off asking for purity from the geese who swim the river and the river itself.
the river takes and overtakes in its endless glory, boundless being.
am i the river or the bridge? can’t i be both? steady and always moving, fierce and cold and wild and free?
i dream bridge dreams again, standing at the edge of forever and nowhere and somewhere, sage in my lungs and a song on my lips or was it a prayer? i dont remember anymore but it doesnt seem to matter.
a dead cow washed down the river the other day, stinking and bloated. do cows dream bridge dreams too?
i think of all that the river has taken.
all that it desires. does the river dream bridge dreams? does it dream people dreams?
hospital vespers 