Robert Frazier A glacier of infinite blue volume Constitutes the river’s source Below ground at the upper course Spring streams erode carve tumble Boulders smooth as cannonballs Summer’s currents ease then eddy Flush the middle with dark matter Usually lost between galaxies Charon poles autumn in his sleek gondola Avoiding oxbows where ghosts await Acceptance into the land of the dead Along a vapor-formed phantom Styx He often braves the wintery delta to deliver A soul of destiny to the great Oceanus Here the river mingles to finally infuse A glacier of infinite blue volume