A friend of literature stopped today a River Pilot
we talked of times and gentle currents
a bit of jazz and gamblers luck
a trip in raft and life's love and youth
sad times for his favorite stop

Blood seeks me in review
No place to hide
View sleeps in new
Cry my soul
Big muddy steers
Bread floats on
grapple finds
soft cannon boom

Master screams ten narrow
Voices echo finds channel
Eyes and age work nature
Mark at twain never to find
Heaven or Hell master to be
Each taken back from place
Life French or blue screen
Left as souls search for home
Melt slowly into stable kept
fathom below seen dead
Cry me a river of life gone

Five narrow, gone, float grain

Last barge drips the toil to feed
exchange of food for oil
slips past the levee
for open sea to save
or feed but who
Iran for sanctions lift
Thirty Million Barrels of oil

Thirty hanging from a tree