on a gloomed midday
the highing tide and red sun
lap at oceans edge
on a gloomed midday
the highing tide and red sun
lap at oceans edge
from the East a breeze
long born from a mother’s breast
steels a summer son
all at once, the world
stops, breathes in; the crashing waves
blued from the abyss
horizon ships slip
up… or… over… i can’t tell
the Pacific’s edge
long pole, belly, juttes
busy hands reel in circles
and catch empty sea
tiny toes fumble
feeling between crashing waves
burrowed down; brown bobs
metallic giraffes
billow, exhale – exhaust
as blue comes to steel
grey skies insulate
from the volatile heavens
nihilistic gaze
forgotten bones bask
brittle, brown; long lost sentries
breathing in the tide
triangular bluffs
break the pacific fury
reclaiming old shores