A River Named

A River Named

A Poem by Perdition

Touching the wilderness in your name I became a part of its history

there were crops laid into a fever here once

rows and seeds, the start of the black rose is a lingering thought

not of corn, wheat or of scarecrow’s mind,

but of thistles, stones and memories


a milky sky attended to these memories, long well into the autumn light

The height and harbored flights of coming snow labored to reflect some strange triumph


a triumph dying cold and colder bound by seldom care

and by the old wooden fence that lay bent by the passing dreams, the paint sweating through


there were hinges that grew wilder at the entrance and just like a spike into fleshy meat, like bearing parasites over their host, the gate stayed all but closed, the cracks and chips revealing years of crops and wines denied telling me of that state and of your mind


you have left your doors in wretched poor reflection, and

you have left your hat out for the eastern wind to tumble with the summer’s rain

the best that dies, dies in everything

as it was very much alive, very much apprized of the coming weeds

as in all these things I see before your time

But then seedlings will grow where they will


I smile now as I close my fist with mind

Repairing to these visions from your name

your hair lending the sweeter light down to become my miracle

and even in this darkest hour I still feel some chance

understanding that this crop cannot be saved

yet a struggle is a fountain lost and I won’t give in to that voiceless end

though the heavens mark our smiles

we must leave the safety of our settled homes 

they must be broken into time for time again

to follow in a new name and wilderness 

somewhere with the deeper strains that run with a river of accord

© 2018 Perdition

My Review

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You know when You feel You need to cry but You don't know exactly why? though I'm not well today but reading this was like (You can cry, even if You don't know why).

I maybe unable to grasp what You want me to grasp here, still I see a river of life, and You the solitary man sits beside it, witnessing, whatching, grasping the reflections of life flowing with it, see many times, many lives, many places... it's like it was there since the birth of earth, and here it's flowing near You in this life, in this time, now.... I thought again while reading, what a really deep reader You are, the spirit of Your educated reading self is reflected in the way You write.

well, now I surely wish You this night~dawn to be a very creative one ( this doesn't include editing :) ).

Posted 10 Months Ago


10 Months Ago

Well you are two separate and yet a lot alike....you put it your way and she hers but at the end tea.. read more

10 Months Ago

I might agree for editing this one "only", we will see🤔

and dear Queen, clumsy?! Y.. read more

10 Months Ago

Agreed! On all accounts..but time will tell.
A wonderful poem shared my friend. Your powerful statements took me with you to places and thoughts. I liked how you made the reader believe and understands your words. Thank you for sharing the amazing poetry.

Posted 10 Months Ago


10 Months Ago

Well it was either that or Christmas shop..lol. Seriously, a pleasure and soon as I finish these fre.. read more
Coyote Poetry

8 Months Ago

I enjoyed this poem and you are welcome my friend.
As often happens, your poem is more a launchpad for me, than a script of what to imagine from your storytelling. Even tho you told a different story here, I was reminded of times I hiked the nearby wilderness & seeing how it takes back any attempt by man to claim it & tame it . . . traces of long-gone cultivation are waning pursuits like faint wheel ruts in an overgrown trail. Later my mind jumped the tracks & somehow I was seeing your message as somewhat resembling the way the USA has been kinda falling into a rut, like that overgrown trail analogy, & I'm searching for traces of the strong country I have always been so damn proud of . . . *sigh!* I don't know how that happened, but it makes sense to me (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

Posted 10 Months Ago


10 Months Ago

Well then it makes sense to me as well. I like that you walked the same journey as I did when writin.. read more
From this one piece alone is a Steinbeck novel or an HBO series, it is that complete and that moving. I pictured it being read aloud as a monologue, spoken with a solemnity that can't be matched by anything except times eroding tendrils. You have the bravest voice that I have read in a long time. The writing and the thought process are nothing short of amazing and the emotive power is dizzying. I am always truly inspired.

Posted 10 Months Ago


10 Months Ago

I think I would opt for the Steinbeck novel..lol. Thanks you so kindly Mr. Crowley I am overwhelmed,.. read more
42 views and all I hear in this space is the maggots chewing flesh and your voice reaping out this poetic justice...as I shift uncomfortably in my chair.... as my breath becomes emotional and my eyes leak truth....as the catch in my throat makes me want to bring up whatever bubbles beneath...I reach out and pause as I hear it...like the sound of a descending plane...whistling ....tapering as it leaves me slowly. Ill rest in this 20 more times...at least.

Posted 10 Months Ago


10 Months Ago

Well fasten your seat belts and make sure that your trays in the upright position..lol. Thank you Qu.. read more

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5 Reviews
Added on December 2, 2018
Last Updated on December 2, 2018



Sometimes, VA

Writing is a way for me to transcend the edges around the edges of transcendence; if you catch my drift. Thank you for your wonderful reviews and please forgive me if I sometimes fail to do the same... more..


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