What begins as “fatherly advice” turns into a vision of the river Styx, where Time stands and beckons – yet the poet sees only the vitality of his son and the mystery of poetry, revealed through the mundane “bridge” of his words.

In the summer of 2004, my 18-year-old son Alexander was working for a "Rivers" project at the Surrey Art Gallery -- he kept pestering me to submit a poem. I wrote a 13-line poem which we posited over Alex's abstract water-related images, all sustained by the drone of an unrelenting Didjeridu. The poetic narrative is resolved by a verbo-visual pun on the underside of the Alex Fraser Bridge (near Vancouver).