Jul 2014
On a shore flooded in the tide.
Now on a flitting log:
Rain, trying to fill up
the ridges white,
that, I, along with
*****, snails and tiny starfish
are ambling to escape from.
The trees, they are laughing wet.
As are the distant waves,
snapping on returns.
Now on a flitting log:
Rain, trying to fill up
the ridges white,
that, I, along with
*****, snails and tiny starfish
are ambling to escape from.
The trees, they are laughing wet.
As are the distant waves,
snapping on returns.
Trying to gather together impressions from a visit to the coast on the Arabian Sea: spaces are meant to reflect pauses: a style tribute to good old Ezra Pound!
(Quantum Dot)
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