Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 09/04/19


When There’s Nothing Else

you’re a little old now
to go down to the river
on a Sunday morning
and walk along with a notebook
stopping here and there
to scribble incoherently
to nurse the small tragedies
of your first world life
like a stood-up teenage girl

but there’s nothing else to do
so you find that old cottonwood tree
fallen on the bank
lying dead like the bleached thigh bone
of some ancient beast
and sit there and scribble
sometimes tearing the page
with your pencil point

you stare into the tumble
of spring runoff
the impenetrable to the eye
muddy mad swirl of it
as it flows east
to be swallowed
by the blue desert sky
and fall again

©Brian Rihlmann all rights reserved


Brian Rihlmann was born in NJ, and currently lives in Reno, NV. He writes mostly semi-autobiographical, confessional free verse, much of it on the so-called “grittier” side. Folk poetry…for folks. He has been published in Constellate Magazine, Poppy Road Review, and has an upcoming piece in The American Journal Of Poetry.

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