Penny vase made from
the brown voided canyon rusting.
Friends that were made of waste,
they said time was simply turning,
the boat spoke back and said the depth of ones nature
could walk on water
But a deep voice
Was all that sprayed in pungent
aerosol and
displeasure.

Do we need to be on the same boat?
To drift into the beguiling surf?
Altogether
Better if we were dispersed
Dropped by the caving soft curve
Sliding through the unseen wash, watching your muddy glare.
Track the force in
blueberry motion
pulling and pushing us,
a sollen hand
and flying sleeve
The touch of flaunting fingertips and strings,
The fluttering wick
Swing and swished.

The chest of wonders beaming
Transmitting
a map
and lines like hay and wires
They were all exposed in the lines of her eyes
Maps

You frightened me that sleepy day
The dusted arsenal stick
Casted me on a rod made of hibiscus dew and syrup
A venomous hook that entangled my earrings
The push and her wave of desire,
Maps
To her treasure,
Reeled it now all over her wet webbed feet.
Caged,
Maps
and pressure
of the rocks falling against the time ticking
Hours away from the swaying shore.