a literary journal published by the Black Earth Institute dedicated to re-forging the links between art and spirit, earth and society
The river arranges us.
Pain came by way of the river.
When I walk along its trail,
I feel small, contained.
When I walk along, I feel ashamed,
the banks lined with sycamores,
white trunks gleaming, a distant meanness
trembling through their leaves.
The river centers anyway,
churning for us all, clean, dirty,
most some of each. The river too
undrinkable, but we want
to touch with fingertip or toe,
in spite of history.
No gods, no devils, no words
can tell us what it is.
Tara Bray is the author of Small Mothers of Fright (LSU Press, 2015) and Mistaken For Song (Persea Books, 2009). Her poems have appeared in Poetry, Crazyhorse, Agni, The Southern Review, Shenandoah, New England Review and The Hudson Review.