feelin' kinda poemy
about life
about looking around
seeing what sticks to the eyes
taking it in inside
and sorting it out, or not
what comes out of my mouth
isn't sense, but sound
and it sounds like the world
like space spreading out
filled with birds
and nerves
and the highway, loud,
softened muffled by distance
but still - surround
like surf, it calls
but with no even rhythm
not like waves playing with
and over salt-kissed sand
soaked dark, clay-grey
in a wide swooping ribbon
lapped by cool caress
renewed twice every day
farther up, sun-blessed
sand parched, dry crust
the beach pines for a wave,
with a love-starved sigh
'til the storm comes in
there will be no relief
from this beautiful day
not a cloud in the sky
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