A friend of literature stopped today a River Pilot we talked of times and gentle currents a bit of jazz and gamblers luck a trip in raft and life's love and youth sad times for his favorite stop Blood seeks me in review No place to hide View sleeps in new Cry my soul Big muddy steers Bread floats on grapple finds soft cannon boom Master screams ten narrow Voices echo finds channel Eyes and age work nature Mark at twain never to find Heaven or Hell master to be Each taken back from place Life French or blue screen Left as souls search for home Melt slowly into stable kept fathom bellow seen dead Cry me a river of life gone Five narrow, gone, float grain Last barge drips the toil to feed exchange of food for oil slips past the levee for open sea to save or feed but who Iran for sanctions lift Thirty Million Barrels of oil Thirty hanging from a tree