2021

A thousand waves ripple over a thousand more,

lacerations of the winter sea, glass lipped

ringing as soft as earthy wind chimes

We hang in the waves.

 

You’ll wander through

nests of steel and glass

They rumble

as engines murmur,

eyes dart over cotton.

 

Waves dull out the silence of town.

Return to the woods, the ocean and hills

Brothel hands grab and offer lucid steps into a dimension primal and violent.

Howling, we take our bikes down onto the beach

The hard sand, just touched by water, will hold us.

 

Things at home move slower

Palm trees and laundry

Hang, in the breeze.

Other, burlier trees let us know as the wind passes.

Joyrides of blueberry nicotine

 

Paper bag brews,

On electrical boxes.

Then, we hike to a Palace.

Where we trample marbled floors,

Fountains and chandeliers hung to die.

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Above our nit ridden scalps.

As we buy and eat and chew.

Grab, tag and slag off,

an incestuous orgy;

time packaged to go.

 

But there beyond the break

Myself and two other boogieboard bombardiers

Smoked in back-break foxholes.

Breaking fast

as we waded through blue glassy trenches.

Our hats slouched and weathered,

we set off in search of a better swell.