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…
Read the full bioIssue 22 · April 2015
Table of contents
- From the editors
- Poetry
- Strays
- Next to the River
- Four poems by Christine Potter
- Two poems by Rimas Uzgiris
- Another Art
- Two poems by Bonnie Bishop
- 1955-D and 1945-S
- Outside Ngaoundere
- Three poems by R L Swihart
- Two poems by Eugenia Hepworth Petty
- City Lights, Dirty Window
- Freedom Fries
- Five poems from Shoshauna Shy
- Hyacinth
- Watershed
- Edinburgh, Alone
- The Road to Managua
- Postcard Prose
- Travel Notes