riverbed

poetree is not frozen in stasis
entropy works its own design upon it
poetree like the rock bed of a river
ever changing until the river runs dry
this will compass when i die
then these poem are never again touched
by the water of my thoughts
until then none will know the changing rhythm
of the rocks below

the reign of those who follow will weather my poems
they will mine the rock riverbed of my poetry
looking for the gold
only when they are through destroying the elegant contours
will they understand that there in the face of the bed
laid the wealth
they were walking among the crags
of line and meter
instead of climbing the poetree
to look down from the perspective above
there is where the beauty is

you climbing my poetree
looking down at the riverbed
seeing yourself in the puddles of rain
for you will never see me
you can hope only to see yourself

This poem and image is for sale, to purchase please contact: pstreicher@hotmail.com