Ken Edward Rutkowski

I’m green on the River not so green on the River I have seen its end I’m green on the River I have not seen the beginning I am green on the River every morning I watch it move an old man fishing in the River the last two mornings never again so green on the River if you venture away from the River you get lost maybe This is why people don’t go back don’t go too far I am green on the River I have not seen the beginning I’ve not seen it send I dream I’m like those fishermen I know I am not like those fishing I know I am like this fishing in green on the River every morning I watch an old man fishing on the River the last two mornings never again I know I am this old man I know I am these fishermen I have left the other ones behind in hindsight looking behind me now I’m green on the River everything is green on the River everything I have never had lead me down this River up this River down this River down the alleys of my mind up this River down this River down the alleys of my mind everything I have I have lost I remember you and what I used to be I remember you who I used to be now I know someone else now I remember you who I used to be the man I see every day every day I see the man I’ve seen the beginning I’ve seen no end every morning I watch the old man I used to be every morning I remember you what I used to be now I know someone else the man I see every day is a blessing is a curse is a blessing is all of these things in a blessing is none is the curse is none I have been all these things through but I know better I know better these things I do not believe.

To the young man in the wheelchair a boy left on the side of the highway selling tickets something dropped off in the sun and left to fend for himself for someone else probably his family on the side of the road as it starts to rain everyone races by on their motorbikes without even noticing him maybe some except for one boy about the same age who stops his bike and runs back throws a poncho over this kid buys a ticket and continues on his way with his own business there are many kinds of kids younger than this boy doing the same thing selling tickets asking for money crouched on the side of busy intersections with their heads pulled down inside their laps pushed one hand out accepting alms the locals tell me to never give the kids money cuz if they don’t make enough or not as much as the day before they will get beaten or worse I don’t know people in desperate situations do desperate things even at the expense of other human beings living things and some go out of their way even when in their own predicament of thought and recovery and Life! may I be content with what I have! may I not always feel the need to satiate my good sense my big mouth my words falling off my tongue sometimes my misjudgments blessed and my eyes never healed so I may see it all and that I never forget there are those who could use a hand with alms a line we’re human beings for Christ’s sake and some of us are not at home but we’re still here.

I hear nothing other than motors propelling out past the island chortling under water black deep receding tide night train on Lady’s eye walk down past the spit crustaceans crackling trained feeling see the big light shine look up moon the stars hold on brine home Bobbing up in the morning now I know about night past the jagged rocks the murky line outside time come and get me I hear no stars to achieve here we’re not in warm water anymore comes a call in the background been out at sea since May for months molten river rocks oysters cut in pain small delight I see back home come walking out to me a sound behind the shells stay here bound by stars the outline kindly installed create monitoring sky map the Cape no run no spray the motor is humming it rains this morning comes in stands this rap staying with me a plant tree in the wind straight up backbone no windows start laying apply sculpt back the need to go to bed come in don’t go.

Never he any never be any rest aligned star crazily meandering through the universe hurling sparks throughout the cosmos down on this Earth he never had any such as traveled far away and back it was a dream he was the Future Past never had he any from beginning to end like the burning string on both sides watching it burn matching light folding telling a story an adventure starts from the beginning but never ends never happened to me we us never me many never he any such are fools lost in the mind a clouded thought in fruition above my head I can see it be sunny weather wind pushes through swiping all reality away it was a dream a dream is never he any somewhat pursed on the pursuit of so called happiness a number a relief a testament to the unhappy lives you’ve lived dream?

Christ rises above me arms outstretched almost as if he is flying fast into his birth sure of nothing other than the horizon that rises below him he has not moved for almost seven years seven years I’ve seen him weathered by the sun and strong winds and rain pray for rain to wash him off to bring him change when I’m not looking maybe after seven years he turns his head and watches me swim all the way down to Pineapple Beach over the rocks around the fancy hotels inside the inlets and peninsulas in fingers that stretch out from shore watches me swim around the bend facing now West when I look around on my back he’s changed into the man that once stood over the cliff are you surprised that he never lets you catch him that you never will because here he really never did exist he’s an idea set in stone to watch over a world some have created in his alter image willfully undeniably maybe defiantly is something else that may be tattered by wind by the sun by memory nevertheless when I see him while floating on my back like a turtle like a dead fish within the analysis of place rather still in replication in his arms unfolded wide I do the same as when I was a boy my mother watching me from shore assured I would not leave but afraid I would swim too far out of her reach never to come back into the same world again.

I throw my number down and someone picks it up palms facing down picks it up from the ground with two hands stares at me from across the street walks back across smiling hands it to me with two hands held together palms facing up says hello number thrown down a piece of paper four hands of relief of persistence across the street we acknowledge each other I see the broken street I see the leaf fall down the River and then wonder how it is that we all meet she comes across and says hello good day two hands facing up palms to the Sky we look each other in the eye let it go let it go easy for me to do not say easy for me to let it go not say gestures not words acknowledgement recognition lucky number or inevitable circumstance I’m a man standing across the road on the same line as Ho Chi Minh the lady looks at me and wonders why I don’t take the money back she found it on the street the leaf floats down the River across the sunny Highland no hassle without asking when the woman will be back we don’t say Amen we say well fine.