The River I want to go down the river one more time, see clear blue sky reflected in pools beyond white foam, dirty brown soup of choppy waves below the rapids. The river is what I want, that and wildflowers, leaves turning colors shivering in the wind, rainbows in the fall.
Recipe for Love Take two marginally sane people. Place in a large mixing cup. Add vodka, sugar and lemon juice. Set Vodka on fire. Add ice, quickly. Serve shaken.
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I just updated my recent post, poems from the Avocet, with an audio recording.