Underneath a shadow (sometime),

        Sit in seriousness

And wait

                For the waves that

                            Wash over your back,

For the welcoming (wafts) of sandalwood and

Eucalyptus rain,        for the becomings that grow

        In small urchins

        And in-between

                            The pincers of baby crabs.

We are pulling up nothing from the bottom today

Just floating endlessly      and      elated above

Smooth and steady sleeping rocky tides –

                (On and on…)

Where there’s no season      to this


Save the circling

                                    Smoke that slowly

                                                                         Halo rings our heads,

Where Jezebel nests now and then in the shells and twigs of our hair –

And carousels soften

        (Into liney fingers) and vein,

Sallow and stern and

On promenade to garner all gratefulness speechings –

Though yes –          She will carry us across to the other side.

Hum and we put our palms inside one another

        Instead of hiding in pockets

                Decorated for yesterday’s chapter.

Ohhh for these rapturous contemplations

                                                                      (For torrid

        Albeit pungent possibility) –

Slick and wet like          seafoam and breezeway

Passages hiding             behind the black of the sun,

        – If we only can find the door,

Lift and          push the mountain,

Find a      turning point,

A medium



A (blistering) of the shallows

                                             In favor of

Something grander still.



        Then push on with your oars,

                                                      Lick the tide

And carry the moon under (each) of your tongues.

What are you looking for?