These creases of ours:
Tales of dragons and white ships...
Neatly folding sheets.

Seldom seen in the stew of Scranton skies
But there it is
a rubber band of fog  
smudged across black distance...
Myriad-multitudes
They are truly there
Each burning ball
gathered beyond my imagination
by the Moon Mother
Who scrubs the faces
of her little stars

Wind driving cloud-cows
across a range of blue
Holds gulls by wing tips
motionless

Trains a tree to worship
Bows beach grass
to its will

all while rattling windows--shaken fist at me
Then still

The waves forever
tell their names
ocean
o-shshc-ean

ocean
BashO--CE-A-N
ocean

ocean
OC-E-A-N
ocean
ocean
oceanshshsh-shea­n

This poem is an ice cube
just pick it up and see
the colors and emotions there
are frozen for all of time
please turn it over and behold
when up against the light
look hard and you will see it flash
reflections of yourself
feel the coldness as it starts
to melt and run with ease
through fingers numb with icy pain
and now with puddles in your lap
this poem's a part of you