A fountain is not a waterfall
Cascading on me, washing me over
All the way to the sea.
A fountain is not a geyser
Projecting itself with the force
Of lightning—inside me.
A fountain is a fountain.
Whatever it’s filled with
Will fall and will rise,
Over and over again,
Convincingly telling a lie
That it is new, that it is fresh,
That it even exists.
To hell with fountains.
Water that doesn’t come from the Source
To make its journey
Through time and through space
From the depths of the earth
To the heights of the skies–
That is not water. That’s soda pop.
donika emille 