I am the deep, the sky in reverse
I have what you seek, for better or worse

I am the blue of infinite depth
I've swallowed the crews and cleared the decks

You are afraid or maybe intrigued
Of the place where you played and also was freed

Kiss me now like you did before
Give me your vow and the ocean is yours.

Dallas, November 1963
Fifty-seven years since they shot Kennedy
Everyone saw then live on T.V.
what happens when you challenge
secret society

Some say the mob or the CIA
Either black or white, but the truth is gray
and long since buried 'neath Texas clay
right next to good ol' LBJ

I ask not what my country can do for me
Blood on her hands, Lady Liberty
Let sleeping dogs lie, leave history be
The truth died in Dallas, 1963

in my coarse sorrow
and aching qualm
i think of febrile tomorrows
for
what am i
but a girl obsessed with winter’s poppies
in a torrid mid-July

I am sat
In a tight picnic circle
Laid on the grey sand

I am a crusted seashell,
I am the limpets which cling to my skin
Like a sunken chest

The waves and sea gulls call
For each other and the cold
In the distance. The swimmers. The Irish

Sea and the Irish cold
Whistling,
The sea and the clouds

You are the froth
Flowing through my lungs like a white
Feather fallen from the sky

Silent
And dry
The rock's green hair swaying

The wind strikes the eye
Like a splash
And decays with

The grace of a coffin
For me the reeds have born their fruit
They stab the naked

Skin, you are still
Sleeping on your side
In the tent

You are still beautiful
Within, soon the ***** will unfold
And we shall embrace
The sea and her sons

the mountain only grows steeper
so that your roots can dig in deeper

—keep climbing