It keeps eternal whisperings around
Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell
Gluts twice ten thousand caverns, till the spell
Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound.
Often 'tis in such gentle temper found,
That scarcely will the very smallest shell
Be moved for days from whence it sometime fell,
When last the winds of heaven were unbound.
Oh ye! who have your eye-***** vexed and tired,
Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea;
Oh ye! whose ears are dinned with uproar rude,
Or fed too much with cloying melody,—
Sit ye near some old cavern's mouth, and brood
Until ye start, as if the sea-nymphs choired!

Over and back,
the long waves crawl
and track the sand with foam;
night darkens, and the sea
takes on that desperate tone
of dark that wives put on
when all their love is done.

Over and back,
the tangled thread falls slack,
over and up and on;
over and all is sewn;
now while I bind the end,
I wish some fiery friend
would sweep impetuously
these fingers from the loom.

My weary thoughts
play traitor to my soul,
just as the toil is over;
swift while the woof is whole,
turn now, my spirit, swift,
and tear the pattern there,
the flowers so deftly wrought,
the borders of sea blue,
the sea-blue coast of home.

The web was over-fair,
that web of pictures there,
enchantments that I thought
he had, that I had lost;
weaving his happiness
within the stitching frame,
weaving his fire and frame,
I thought my work was done,
I prayed that only one
of those that I had spurned
might stoop and conquer this
long waiting with a kiss.

But each time that I see
my work so beautifully
inwoven and would keep
the picture and the whole,
Athene steels my soul.
Slanting across my brain,
I see as shafts of rain
his chariot and his shafts,
I see the arrows fall,
I see the lord who moves
like Hector lord of love,
I see him matched with fair
bright rivals, and I see
those lesser rivals flee.

grandeur—
starlight trickling
into sea; she nodded
beside me, gracefully.
she fell into never,
beside me.

when the wind hits in
gusts, it bleeds through my
jacket. we splatter to the soil,
churning towards an
unforgiving
sea.

gather flowers
to burn your whitish
corpse—

(flashes of
you, the sand, warmer
waters: floating in the
blue

the sun slumbers
on the rim of a straw hat

same initials

i don’t have the time
to wait for dawn

who’s promised to meet me
address unknown

life in the open air

i’m listening to another sea
at the depth of shellfish

you play with the ball without doubting it

sometimes
the sun goes down not far
from the shore

the sea
is limitless
and turbulent
and wildly beautiful
and has captured my heart in its
shimmering swells of cobalt waves.
this is a love letter
for a love that cannot be captured in words.
that is all.

On golden shores on white sands,
Stands a blue catamaran.
With toil, love, skillfully made.
Though paint chips off, colors fade.
It's built from logs of hardy wood,
A fisherman... his livelihood.
He sails each day, with hopes new,
His life, his love on a rippling blue.

On calm waters when sun shine beams,
When the shimmering bay glistening gleams,
When waves dance, in tandem sway
Where sun rays wink, hide and play.

On vengeful days when waters mock,
When menacing gales toss and rock,
When dark clouds engulf the bay,
When the world anchored safely stays.

But the sun kissed fisherman,
Sails each day his catamaran..
Never tethered on safe shores he,
For thats not where he's meant to be.

As he sails the coastal bay,
I see him fade.. far away
Singing songs, in the distance he,
His love, his life, his hope..the sea.