The Everlasting River

By Jacob Prince


"It snowed and snowed, the whole world over, Snow swept the world from end to end. A candle burned on the table; A candle burned."

-Boris Pasternak

The River Of Everlasting

The river of everlasting,

With streams that never end. +

Their path knows of truth,

But depth of no such thing.

Never drink water of the

Everlasting River.

For it is poison, and

will burden your soul.


How wonderful to be alive, he thought. But why does it always hurt?

River of Love

The river of love.

Starts with a trickle,

and ends with a flood.

Rainfall initiates,

And the droplets fickle my soul.

This water has no goal,

It covers the earth like a blanket.

But really only to smother the love,

And soak up the life.

A dove rummages for

the last bit of land.

And I wonder, was this love everlasting?

As the dove appears on darkened horizon, I watch the wind,

forecasting more and more rain.

My legs take me overboard,

what a shame.

It starts to rain.

Love will be the death of me

Love is so fickle,

It starts with a flood

And it ends with a trickle


I remember nothing.

Nothing that was whole. +

Things are different nowadays, everything is fractioned.

Nothing is whole.

Words in pieces,

Lives in similar shape.

it's not that I just can't remember ,

I just Forgot that's it

If only I could recall,

Truefully life isn't this small?

Piece by piece we organize life,

But a few parts fell out the box.

I lied and said they're all here.

They're not.

7th Floor

I'm 6'5 but 7' below +

On my toes I might reach 6'11,

But that's as high as I'll ever get.

Can't swim up 'cause I lost direction,

Even though I got a map.

But it's wet and crinkled and illegible,

No good.

Sounds familiar.

I swim down anyways.

Some distance below,

It's hard to measure under water.

You lose sense of direction and end up measuring your own height.

Getting frustrated, I follow a fish.

She says this to me,

“My name is Lucille,

And I know how you feel.

Been swimming someway,

But you need to go that way.

I've been here a long time,

Saying one day I might could find.

But that day won't come along,

I still don't know where I belong.

My name is Lucille,

And my brain's like a seal.

Don't know which way is up,

But I'll take you where you must.

Down the road, at the sign,

There is a statue that you'll find

Look him in the eye

and then you'll know,

only time will tell you

where to go.”

Time Blvd

Truthfully you are quite strange,

Maybe someday you'll change.

Time Blvd,

Destination La Fin.

Take it to the shore,

Jump off the end.

Go at 3,

when the sun shines just right.

You'll be blinded,

your eyes won't see the fight.

You're too tired to defend,

So you take the road to the end

Short Regret & Heartstrings

Can I forget? All this regret? +

As minds plea for tears,

My heart gives drought.

A sad heartstring this is,

Delivering that sad substance.

We sit in groups and desolate together.

But I just stare at you,

Pretty when you cry.

Anaheim girls don't lust

for Cleveland guys.

If only I could join you,

you might even speak to me.

God knows I try.

But these eyes just don't leak.

So the feelings stay meek.


Has it always been this way?

Is it possible all this magic went unnoticed?

Maybe things will start to change,

And life will turn a better page.

No more rain.


I forgot,

It wasn't a lie,

I don't know. +

A strange person you are,

To manipulate me.

And now you want to kill,

I deserve to die?

I'm trying to please, it never works.

As you describe me with words only describing yourself, My heart bleeds.

A nice round puddle on the floor.

Maybe I'll slip and fall, die.

I'm terribly sore. Stop hurting me.

You demand words with volume






'til I can't even hear,

Oh dear.

Ears leaking red,

A weird shaped puddle this is.

My intentions are pure,

I'm pretty sure.

But I'm a liar anyway.

For what price shall I pay?

This pain's got to go.

It gets









'til my ears hear no more.

This river’s gonna quiver.

You are the river, the river of everlasting. +

She flows & goes & never comes back,

But she'll find the ocean one-day.

I'm swimming in the river,

The Everlasting River.

hoping to follow to the ocean someday,

hoping to find everlasting with you.

This river, is gonna quiver,

It's current's separate us.

But I hold your hand,

So I won't lose you,

So maybe we'll make it to the ocean,

So I'll find everlasting with you.


Today is the day,

by noon I will be gone.

Morning are broader than evening,

yet today I shan't find out,

I'll combust and never know.

I should of investigated previous evenings, made disambiguate descriptions.

But today is the day my cubic size knows too well,

today I will spontaneously combust.


She said to me,

"I hope you're okay!"

Most apparently I am broken,

Was she blind?


You have a heart,

Why don't you use it?


A woman walks out of her building,

Pajamas and slippers galore. +

Steps in a puddle,

and is muddled at

The crystal clear reflection.

She walks into a little Baker's shop,

Slopping the mud and

tracking the wet.

She buys a few loaves of bread,

takes them outside and

dries up the Puddle.

A small little crowed arises,

All gagging on the sight

The woman looks them

straight in the eye,

asks if they will help.

They all yell in disgust but she

Just doesn't care.

Dabbing and dabbing at the last bits

Of water, She uses up all the bread.

A sloppy pile of brown wet bread

Puts the crowd at unease.

She doesn't care,

Because last night the one that she cared the most of,

Did her in for the very last time.

She does a simple calculation:

How many puddles it takes

To end all this pain,

Times five loaves of bread.

But the screen in her head

Just reads error

The one that she cared the most of

Comes forward from the crowd.

He takes her by the hand

And warms her with hug,

He says he knows the equation.

He walks into the little Baker's shop, And exits with a couple bags.

The man stares at his lover and says,

"Maybe I bought enough loaves of bread, maybe they'll all be wasted.

But I'll dab up all the puddles in the city, if I see your reflection in them first"

And he got the calculation perfect.


Nights are always the hardest,

but then the day comes.

It's just a little better though;

Not much difference.

Love Profusion

Side by side or miles apart,

you'll always be close in my heart.

Open the door and say no more;

For love declares profusion,

It's words know not of confusion.

Cigarettes & Short Stories

The river is parting, which way to go? Currents fast & division approaching. +

I can't remember, I studied the map,

I know one way is dangerous.

I lost the map, I can't find it.

I go left and lose my arm on a rock.

My arm, I can see it, floating away.

It got chopped off at the great divide.

That arm, I should of kept it, it was my favorite, but I lost it, When hesitating at the grand partition.

And you should of saw the passerby's faces. A little lady screamed and faceplanted the bouts, she was out of that boat so fast.


I giggled, smiled,

picked up my fiddle, while watching my arm swim away. The arm I lost at the great divide.

My fiddle's a gem, her bouts not planted. She stays in tune & sings so sweet.

But my melody is rough, it sure is tough, to play when you lost your bow at the grand partition.

It was in my hand when I lost my arm,

but the passerby's still gave requests.

So I fingered the board, strummed the cordes, With my foot-fingers and my hand-toes.

The passerby's were very charitable and gracious. little did they know that's how I always play.

When the sun got low I gathered my things, put them in my empty bag.

And you should of seen the picture of me, when I looked in the bottom of the bag.

When I saw a passerby's hat, and a maritime map, all in the bottom of my bag.

I let out a shriek, and faceplanted the bouts, cause surely I'm not a thief.

"YIKES" Plung!

The passerby screamed as I floated down the stream. A little ways down from the great divide.

My brains quite small, but I can recall,

The dangers of going left at the grand partition, where water swims down a cliff.

I try to swim, get to the bank, but swimming's hard with missing limbs.

The passerby are very odd, they keep making requests,

"Grab a branch"

I've never heard of it, but I play some kind of tune, they'll always cheer for me anyway.

The waterfall is approaching, so I just play and play and play.

& float away to the end

The end.

Death & Such

Christmas cash,

hookers stash. +

A small box keeping currency and secrets safe, that's all it was,

journalism and such.

At first sight 'twas queer

Disambiguates spoke of schisms & touch. But as clocks spun Mary proved knowledgeable.

She lost her fear and took a shot, Growing familiar with holidays and thots.

She gained fame, and consequently knew many days of pay.

But Life is Aquarius and water is problematic. There are no exceptions, everyone must take their turn.

For that reason Mary grew tired, lonely and worn. She lost hope and gave up. Died.

On that morning all were mourning;

Even the humanists who'd killed her.

Sadly, they'll never learn.

Now everyone must take a turn,

Death and such.

Christmas inheritance,

Hookers fortune.


I love melancholy,

So I write in past tense.


Get well in timely fashion. +

Pictures from inside.

My brain is outside.

Shake the head & take a picture.




Fresh produce at the stand;

Come get your local shrimp.

Around the back, erotic locale.

Come meet your local pimp.

He sells shrimp deveined,

While you wait to buy in vain.

He wishes you'd go.

Let him be with the local pimps.

But you have a

secret he'll never know.

It's how terribly fond

you are of him.

So you wait in line

and buy some shrimp.

Try to bond with the pimp.

You move up a little and get confused.

'Cause it turns out he's just a shrimp.

On a pole with sticks for legs.

It's hard to tell but I think he's strapped with pegs.

At the end of the day I didn't get a pimp, So I steal that shrimp and call him my own.

Now he sleeps in my freezer.

Time Short

Time is round,

clocks are square.

If it's true life is fair. +

But clocks are round & times are not.

So I think about this a lot.



The night before my demise.

Approximately 10:12 pm.

Some winters day. Solstice-eve


Lavender scent puts me at ease.

It surrounds the air as poison gas. +

A deathly heat arises and stays for the night. It prowls the lavender air, and waits to kill.

The lavender proves vulnerable, I fall into a solstice-eve daze.

Nearly the longest sleep you'll ever have.


The day of my demise

Approximately 7:23 am

The next winters day. Solstice.


I awake suddenly;

My head is struck likewise to the church bells I hear.

Heat wraps my heart and nape,

Burning all it touches.

I struggle to stop the heat,

open a portal to let in some cold air.

The lavender poison still fills the room. It leaves me drowsy and reluctant to move.

The solstice day proves short. Night greets with horror screams.

I prepare myself for the longest sleep of my life. I tell the world goodbye,


Tea with the Gadfly

Sleeping in clouds;

Asleep with the flies. +

They fly down each day and leave me.

My days are spent watching from above. I see the gadfly ruling the world.

I await the flies evening arival,

clouds are so very lonely.

In time spent waiting I question life's choices and life in general.

Sometimes aeroplanes come and visit. They're nice company. We chat about global warming and have lunch together.

Every now and then it rains. I enjoy a morning tea with Gadfly. Rainy days are of my most favourite days.

River of Ink

Rainy days are my most favourite.

Days when life is still, and you can swim away. +

Rain makes the river's mirror illegible. If only I could hear what my reflection has to say; She signs of relief, But she's going away.

The sky clears and my reflection sinks.

She left behind a letter, but drank the ink. Her note of departure is clear. She took a final sip before lettering the address. Leaving the pen dry & the recipient illegible.

If only I had asked who it was for, She left in a blink, now it's unknown post.

I roll up the paper and put it in a bottle.

I toss the vessel in the river. Maybe the water heard who the letter was for.

The recipient waits. They wait for their delivery, or another rainy day.

I await the coming of rain. Clouds prove sorrowful, They weep ink.

The precipitation fills rivers, allowing future letters to be addressed, and all reflection admirer's thirsts be quenched.

Unsatisfactory Finale

I traveled the river that is life, only to end my journey in an ocean full of blood. +

I should of known better. I remember my most somber days. On those days I recalled page 23 in my textbook. The text under a heading that reads,

"The Way of Water"

However I never could recall that nothing escapes the river, and that you must take it to the end.

The concept proved true. My bleeding heart flooded the river, and blood traveled to the end.

I wander a bloody ocean.

This is everlasting.