Poetry - Issue 22 | April 2015

Next to the River

by Jeremy


Next to the River

Big Sur

I went down next to the river,
showed my naked body to the river
& the river came & did not go.

All praise to the water & sycamore,
the moss that hung from its branches
like rotted wedding gowns.

All praise to the the wind moving
through that place & the bright water
& the language it said. Oh to be

there still, in that river, bathing
my big body in the water, scrubbing
my big belly & breasts, joy  
glittering
      in the folds.


About the author

Jeremy Radin was born in Los Angeles but don’t let that fool you. He’s much more comfortable in miserable weather. The forests of Oregon make more sense to him than language. At Loch Lomond, he took his shirt off in the rain and made animal sounds with his friends on top of a mountain. His work has appeared, or is forthcoming in venues such as Epigraph, The Rattling Wall, and Souvenir.

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