top of page
The Penlogue
Meandering Pothole
The Phuc Mai
Meandering river, a slithering bow,
Slip-off-slope and small-river-cliff.
Erosion and attrition, and helicoidal flow
Like a blind bullet
now there's a pothole.
Of crushing floods and jet-ink yonder,
Thy burden weighs and pulls thee deeper
Under the sands thou torrents scream terror
Yet water berates thy mortal suffers.
As you stare up all hopelessly,
the river flows eternally.
Meandering river, a slithering bow,
Slip-off-slope and small-river-cliff.
Erosion and attrition, and helicoidal flow
Like a blind bullet
now there's a pothole.
Of crushing floods and jet-ink yonder,
Thy burden weighs and pulls thee deeper
Under the sands thou torrents scream terror
Yet water berates thy mortal suffers.
As you stare up all hopelessly,
the river flows eternally.
Author's note
"Life is like a meandering river. Some live on the bleech-white slope, some live on the cliff's hanging torrents. The water swerving left and right, up and down, turning over the old and flooding with the new. You are, and the people around you, the riverbed of cliff or slope, enduring the ebbs and flow of living in an everchanging normal." - The Phuc
bottom of page