River Poetry

By Ken Corbett

Poetry for paddlers, canoeists and all lovers of flowing water.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ken Corbett
• Release date: Oct 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005760403

Ken Corbett

Ken Corbett is Clinical Assistant Professor at the New York University Postdoctoral Program in Psychoanalysis and Psychotherapy. He maintains a private practice in New York City and consults internationally. His writings and interviews about gender, sexuality, art, and psychotherapy appear in academic journals as well as in magazines, newspapers, websites, and on television. He is the author of the critically acclaimed Boyhoods: Rethinking Masculinities.

Book preview

Where I'd Like to Be

Hymn of the Tire Hunter

The Good Ole Boys

Lore

River of Dreams

The Tales Are There

Selfsame Shore

My River

Copyright 2020

ISBN: 978-1-716-48052-2

My Secret River

I have seen my secret river from afar

while standing on a mountaintop

watching the wind raise shimmering

wavelets on its blue breast

like the iridescent scales on the flanks of a

silver salmon.

But when I climb down from the lofty peak

the sheer cliffs turn me against my will

to the other side

to join their slender fingers overhead

where I enter the forest far from the river's course

and lose my way in the dark and lonely thickets.

Somewhere there's a faded trail

where alder and yellow birch reach up on either side

to join their slender fingers overhead

swaying in the saffron breeze of spring

down a long leafy hall

where shafts of sunlight pierce the arching canopy

chasing each other on the path

that leads to the headwaters of my secret river.

I know that when I find the long-forgotten carry

and follow it to the sunlit meadow

I will stand at last upon the clover shore of my secret river.

My boat and my pole will be waiting for me

nestled in the bank reeds

beside a smooth stepping stone

where I will climb in and begin my journey.

Rapids may lie in wait around the next turn

But I will match their frenzied dance,

step upon step,

twist after drop

down to the calm pool

where I will linger to watch the dark fishes dart

from rock to rock in the dappled depths

ror this is my secret river

and I will follow it to its end.

The blue sky of summer is flecked with clouds of autumn

and gold and scarlet leaves ghost

in the green crowns of the ridge's spine.

Will I find the way to my secret river

before the meadow lies hushed

under the first thin blanket of winter's snow?

If I Could Go with You

If I could go with you

on your lake of glass,

I couldn't bear to tell you

what will come to pass.

Your forest spreads unchecked,

a pristine realm of wonder.

My forest has been