There is a burning river running

There is a burn­ing riv­er run­ning
from this city into my heart. It
coils like a trum­pet past
offices full of white noise
and piles of rock like
old dreams. It stirs among
the build­ings as a home­less
woman writ­ing poet­ry and
flick­ers along the hands of
the hot dog man.
If you pay atten­tion,
soon there will be
a burn­ing riv­er run­ning
into your heart.

And punk rock kids dance
in the light of the water,
hold­ing fast to flames
no one else will see.

Cleve­land, 2005