Willets cull the seawall
snapper on the grill
rock ***** swoon
in shallow lagoons
long boats pass
under quiet
palm shade

Plovers dance and flutter
handrails frayed and torn
graffiti spots
at lovers rock
frigate-birds fall
from a high
noon sun

Thatched roof on a mud wall
fish flags settle score
anchors arch
in front line march
pillar cracks form
under rust brown scars

Elegant tern and grebe
watchmen fall in cue
children play
on crested waves
whimbrels and notchers
perch above Tentaciones

Striped pelícanos
the bandits of the sea!
merchants grow
in steady flow
siblings jostle
in a tide cooled sand

Heerman gull and boobie
durango smoke in yurt
boiler shrimp
and puffer blimp
castle buckets and scrapers
under a dusk light cheroot

Six pulls on a lead line
painted toes in sand
shearwater run
in a rainbow sun
the portly mexicano
flaunts his tacos
and wares

Rooster house for swordfish
bamboo shoots and sails
broken shells
and ocean swells
rise
on the
perfect
La Ropa bay

**

Age.
I know not how others measure it
but my books suggest that I am,
well, how do you say it-
old.
I’ll steer one more maiden into
her dock
and go home, myself
to warm socks and steady ground.

62.
26.
I’ve spent the backwards reading of
my age
on ships
with stars on flags and vessels too fast
for mankind.
Just a few more days, I say
then no more miles
only garden
no more waves
only blankets
and I will age

Yes,
age.

The sky is full of Sun
- big fluffed up white pillows
- where I rest my mind
in the blue of forever.

I write not because i seek your truth,
i just do - for someone who seeks
understanding in all the doors we see.

I write not because i seek your pity,
i just do - for someone who seeks
understanding in all tough roads we
go through.

I write not because this is a job,
i just do - for someone who seeks
relief to the burden he has not
spoken out loud.

© pax