Also I hear the mountains spring on their way back.
they kick up brown-blue mudslides
the weaver of water expands
as fish screech to taste
an order of merit
water is in our tears.
wars over water will be profound
like Israel’s grab for the rivers of Jordan.

Listen to the laplap lapping of the weedy river
the river is no longer firstly or lastly. It just is.
Chris & I used to stand on the metal bridge
enjoying the sound, feeling the mist
from the waterfall. 
Now at night I weep sadly with song, 
whiskey and sadness overwhelm me
my heart is damaged - arrhythmia the doctors say
water passes through eleven bodies before mine.
that’s fine, by me.
Water is peeled of impurity
water shines like slip-shod shoes
patent leather wonders;
remember: fire is doused with water
while sweet grapes attract the palate.

We must wait for significance to grow like a vine 
some sell flowers outside graveyards
whilst other offenders can still muster a multiverse
at election time, outside a chapel of dark jerusalem vines.