Whereupon I am Visited by the Boat-Master in My Dreams–Jason Ryberg
An old white man with an old banjo, playing Old Black Joe
in a rowboat, drifting through mist on a river at dawn,
somewhere, where water lilies have completely claimed
both sides of the bank, up and down it, for what could be
miles and the sky and trees look like one of those grand old
paintings of the Adirondacks, but then something deep
down inside of me says Boy, don’t get in that boat, and then I
am suddenly flailing and grasping in the dark for something,
anything to tether me to this world.
***
Jason Ryberg can be found on Facebook at jason.ryberg.5 and TheJasonRyberg.