Descriptive Poem Arms/Wrist. Poem by Ryan Brodesser

What living rivers run
Under bleach tan hills
Were life runs at a sluggish pace
Yet pulses with urgent frequency
Running along a low forest of curvy hairs

Moving ranges of mountains bone plating
Though under no seismic power
Rippling and rolling like liquid silver
Gracefully to coordinate each single joint
Hills leading to long singular cliffs

Lo what movements!
In every motion drumming to tapping
To simple drum like rhythmic taps
All under one muscular overlord
Yet independent and free

What ungraceful looking arms some have
More simian then man
A transparent forest
Yet completely devoid of life
Such an odd concept to consider

Yet under such hills
Upon rivers do rafters run
Floating together to each different location
To each important task
Upon the blue crimson sea

At the end of the journey
White cliffs await
Like the sea washed cliffs of Dover
In the merry land of famed England
Then nothingness, only an empty void