Water and Stone



Step out upon the bank of a river.

Set out, begin – the first day a radiant downpour


The morning, an empress – the light slides in

Over blanket hilltops

The morning blue soaks your eyelids

Showers your face in filtered aquamarine – you are a prism


I am drawn to your softness and light

into your eyes like twin velvet statuettes

Encircled by an immense plaza

            A vast square made of the finest marble

            overlooking a turquoise sea

            spread like honey between round emerald hills





On the high, sculpted banks of this river (it runs

gold against the figures of the grass)

You walk wreathed in tender pillowed cloud

            It spins up around your body

            You seem encased in it

            Your hair diffuses a simple red light

As if I was planning to run each of my fingers


down your spine






And the water was still, like new concrete

We who understood were standing, masked in moonlight

A current rippled up the silent river

It turned me to face you

Heaved me against you, left us

            touching gently

            only at the forehead





There is water and sun in this new land

They flow like the milk and honey ofCanaan

We scoop them in jars, let them cool

Every plant here is like a salve: is an aloe, is a poppy

When I step out among the rushes (scented so green they become jungles)

no crocodile emerges to devour me


About QuietMonolith

I was just a mild mannered young man living in Portland, OR, until one day....POOF! I turned into a crazy, nefarious, thieving, drug-crazed lunatic. I had lots of therapy and spent many months in hospitals and treatment facilities. Eventually, at the end of my rope, I decided to change everything. With the support of my family and friends, I have embarked on a quest to achieve optimum wellness. I am making radical changes in every part of my life, and in the way I approach the world in which I live. Follow my blog, The Wellness Quest, to experience what happens when a desperate addict takes hold of his destiny and devotes all his time and energy toward making a full recovery. I am also a writer and poet. Follow my blog, What We Left Behind in Crowded Rooms, to take a look at some of my recent poems.
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