Guzlowski-Stepek: The Never-ending Poem

Death sings  and life scowls at the noise he makes. Life then tries a hymn. She sings  about birds and summer warmth and the becalmed sea at the end of day . Death smiles  and says  I'm deaf to all that. Tone deaf. I am the tone of death. Monotone. It's the only song I know.

Death sings  And life listens Life then tries Her hand She sings  About trees And winter And the beach At nightfall When the singing  Is done.   Death smiles  And says  That’s nothing. Listen to this.

Death is a one way street my friends no traffic heads back from there the traffic light system is red red red green a colour of the past once you're there Death is a one way street my friends and that's the street we're on so enjoy the drive while you can

  I can’t see the river from here. The woods blind me, Take away my thirst, Make me only want  The chair i sit on And the floor I stand on. Yesterday, it was different. The woods were just a stone I kicked out of my way As I walked toward the river. If I could speak to the river I would ask her why she’s  So far away and so cold The day before she hugged me And laughed as I stood with her Watching the sky turn gray with night. 

The river is an old man rusting as he flows. He looks just like the ocean sees himself as stream. He's all metaphor  and magic his memories a spray of dawn surprise sparkling in sunlit ripples Where does the river flow, old man to somewhere grey and dirty where do you hide old man, someplace we may never know?

The river An old man  looking at a river  sees the river.  No metaphors  no magic  no memories  of dawn sunrise  streaming the water.  Just the river, the water gray  and dirty moving  someplace  he will never see.

The river I died on Is fat and it's old It trudges slowly Toward a sea that trembles And squawks like an eagle In the sky Death, Master of the drowned world  Suddenly stopped At my door And said look  You should have put your shoes on And come walking with me. I wanted to show you things You’ll never have understood But would watch in wonder. Too late now for coffee Your shoes float on the rusty red ocean No need for sticks To help you stand and walk You are lost to the river And go to the sea from where you came.