4 a.m.
it was one hundred o/clock
and the tide was low low low
the receding water laid bare and dry the
artifacts of doubt and indecision
the cat snored and the radiators rattled
still in the night
no meaning would be extracted
laying inconsolable in the shallow tidal pools
Gulliver like
tied tightly by eleventy thousand bonds of reason
all the while knowing beyond certainty that
the tide would soon come in and re submerge the clues of
self restriction
where they would sway and wave and shimmer in the phosphorescence
like lovers leaving forever on the conveyance of your choice here
forever
forever
forever
2 comments:
Beautiful.
I wish you and your famely Happy Eastern
from Lake Konstanz
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