>>2101006ive been reading this lately while out at my spot.
its a collection of river poems and some arts and things written by a drunk boatsman who lived in a shack in the skagit valley in washington. flash flood is probably his most well known poem
"Flash Flood"
Trout fly looping lazily.
Line slicing air, then landing,
Barely breaking surface tension.
The ponderous river, kinda huge and quiet,
Molding mud in silence.
Some dogs bark.
Horses restless.
Birds in frenzy, miles downstream.
Funny rumble felt in the bones.
Then, past the bend upriver,
Like the suddenness of an instantaneous elephant,
Thirty thousand buffalo, in fury red, stampede.
A water-wall of thirty feet
Of wood, rock, grasses, outlined in the sun,
Of flailing humans, soggy mattresses,
The homes of a thousand creatures.
Zany karma on the loose,
The queen of tragedy.
Then, scrambling to higher ground to escape
The raving tip of nature's tongue,
I reach the ridge
And while turning to watch,
I start to fade
And time slows,
And I reawake in the darkened room.
I reach to your arm and
Remember that you also have faded
To another dream.
And then, again, the tears begin
Like tiny flash floods,
But quiet,
Quiet.
