How the word winds between my lips,
narrow body of water flowing down
a bed, journey of space and time,
willows, cattails, rushes mapping
holy sites along banks and bluffs,
travels living ground through landscapes
as circulatory systems move nutrients,
in the water, of the water, connecting
aquifers, oceans, run-off, rainfall, moving
life around the body, the globe, part of
a giant purifying, recycling, irrigation system.
Vastly different, the Mississippi, St. Johns,
the Charles, and lesser-known Neponset
where Asi and Varânasi meet Ganges –
established waterways, splashing
the same, yet coursing across eddies
in deep holes and under throat of oar,
purifying, dividing, beyond arbitrary lines,
awakening myriad associations,
nostalgia, peace, harmony, calm,
other bits gushing with winter fury, wet, cold,
warm, still, not still, a dead and moving mystery
between two parallel banks, a border
we can never specify, recalling Zeno’s Paradox –
the closer, the blurrier the boundaries,
we humans and bodies of water,
reflective, transparent, turning
the wheel of law, tearing away
from bemoaning rageful nights.
The task for PoMoSco's CROWDSOURCE badge was to invite people in a public place to define a word I chose or describe what that word brought to mind and use their words to create a found poem. Most interesting about this badge was the admonition, Do not include the chosen noun anywhere in the poem's body or title.
My sources were writers who meet at Books-a-Million; hence the beautiful language about my secret noun, river.