Long Island is a spellbinding

piece of topography.

twin-forked onto the tongues

of a northern Atlantis.

as if St. John spread a puddle

renowned for its light.

ripple-proof.

a vaporous sheep,

unnervingly  

speeds across peripherality.

manifest as a thing

effacing a productional line--

blurbing black.

in a commotion of energy.

a galleon flares its

gills, while under the

influence of momentous

pushes.

as if the overburdened

menace of its structure--

lurks after the conquest

that kept it afloat.

dimly pronounced to an

increasingly anxious shore.