by Linda Parsons
the riverrock of consciousness
slick with moss and missteps, sways side
to side from the first plop, scarce light
at surface, cove darkened with desire
and suffering samsara. Depths greeny
then sallow, my world-worn weight
follows it down. The koan minnows past:
the coin lost in the river is found in the river.
I sink and rise between gravities—
not silt or pebble, crawdad or tadpole,
downstream or up—but the sun’s currency,
fired and wanton, the moon’s hoarded
bullion, the pearl of impermanence
ashore in the muck.
LINDA PARSONS is a poet and playwright and formerly an editor at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville. She is the reviews editor at Pine Mountain Sand & Gravel and has contributed to The Georgia Review, Iowa Review, Prairie Schooner, Southern Poetry Review, The Chattahoochee Review, Shenandoah, and Ted Kooser’s syndicated column, American Life in Poetry, among other journals and anthologies. Her most recent poetry collection is This Shaky Earth, and her newest endeavor is writing for The Hammer Ensemble, the social justice wing of Flying Anvil Theatre.
Featured Image: “St. Nectan’s Glen Waterfalls, Cornwall, UK” by ukgarden photos