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I had a dream last night
That we, Humans
Evolved without vocal chords
In the near distant future
Due to our advancement in technology

(it will be here before we know it)

Cars already can read our eye focus
Pretty soon they'll drive us home
Social responsibilities fall tragically short
With robots watching our children
While adults go out to play

Our communication skills dwindle
Abilities to talk heart to heart
Eye contact
Conversations over dinner
Are limited to blank boxes
Black text
Our once brilliant colors, faded
I feel this disconnection
Heading back to nature to heal
What I know not how to fix
Besides to spread love, laughter
Especially kindness
With every step
Sitting here
On this wall.
I wait
And wait
         And wait.

I stare
At the clouds.
I hope
And hope
        And hope.

I listen
To the birds.
I dream
And dream
        And dream.

I smell
The white flowers.
I believe
And believe
         And believe.

I touch
The cold ground.
I cry
And cry
       And cry.
octopus legs
graze against
a wolf through the haze
passion's ablaze
howling to the moon
in the dimmest of
lights, bodies
stacked and
curving
laying together
in their dark
masses
two animals
intertwine,
intoxication closed
deep in their eyes.

fingers say more than mouths do
words no longer a language that
needs to be spoken.

committing to another work
that is more playful
than painful
and
the outcome
much more satisfying than a
paycheck.


a day when there is no sun
without the moon
because neither wants to
outshine the other.

complimenting each others
form, differences abound
in the sounds of their
creating, maintaining
a life force is more of
a course than a lecture,
writing turns to writhing
as the pens are dropped
to their feet, exposing
much more than
intellectual property woven
into each layer of the room
intermediate communication
is over
revealing all the answers in the
prose.
learning history is repeating
as summer leaves you overheating
the animals which are overflowing
the surface will soon become extinct.
we only have time for actions
there's no more need to re-think.
Graffiti covered
stones litter
the once pristine
shoreline like
crude markers
over forgotten
graves.

Shattered and
shucked Abalone
lay about like
enemy bodies
across a losing
battle field.
And I see no one
whole enough
to count these
casualties.

Tide pools sit
like silent
trapped galaxies.
Hermit ***** ,
some dead, some
alive enough
to know
these discarded
bottle caps are
not meant
to be a home.

Abalone shell,
a poor mans hell
where one flicks
his cigarette  butts
into empty
Abalone shells.

The Sea Otter
can't be
all there
is to blame.

Tell me old
Salt Dog,
where has
all the
Abalone gone?
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