1570: The Great River Now Called Hudson

1628: The Earliest view of Dutch Manhattan, dated two years after Peter Minuit's purchase, 24 May 1626, shows the fort, windmill, a cluster of dwellings, and Human Beings (Indians) as a regular presence. (New York State Library)

1570
The Great River Now Called Hudson

Underneath the dry flow of rivers the unkempt secretof the rocks dresses the process of eyes arrangedin multiples of ten thousands false steps disturbed by pathogensor transposed sequence of rocks altered by magma in still pondbetween facies of stratified rocks with altered topography.

We manufacture truth and cannot understand the details of earth.There are invisible rocks inside this gray air. There is nothingbut bitter green dust scattered from our own ash. Climb.Process fakes white-water River to resist fixed legs. Drift.

Desire restores satisfaction as invisibleuntil the dock closed and arms tightenas pieces of heaven and hell congeal for work never restswhile music, abstracted words, drawn out of the notesto fire raised cold we never searched. Life is not over.

We are drawn into diverse tints of dark and heatwhere birth and revival complete with crocus in blueand yellow shades stains fingers where sex began.

I am born. Erosion is duty; waste has no shadows here.No suns, no hell, and no cute simple boys and girlsgather as fanzines between rock and roll hysteriato face rows of slight river waves with unsure strokesbefore we fuse, reach home again.

I am shaken in love on the inside of thigh where I hold heartand you arranged drink these simplest words passing for truthin the gallery of Eden complicated by earthquake rhythmsand the shift of space between what is and what was lost –

What remains cannot be known. It is not space or matter cut out or pasted. We dissolve the process, dear government so no lies, please. Please make the mind stop. I am alive. Can’t you see my body tremble and throb?