*There is a place I call Soldier Way
Sacked at the hem of one ruddy bay
The open casket of a living ash town
Along the non cerulean periphery
Waves in battalions besieged in the shores' retreat
Flitting ceremoniously to a soup of heat
The white sea calls in a scepter
Of fleeting air lilies in salt-simmered clouds
Subsumed in daydreams of wet palm castaways
Fiery, elusive pearls praised at my feet
Then went on to their deaths, fluxing flummoxed
As flushed touch-me-nots upon human graze
There, twenty eight steps apart—children cheered
Flamboyant flowers in a backdrop of a resigned hue
I smiled against the vigilance of momentary isolation
In great imaginations, the sea does speak
To the boulders by the homely sand
My spring back on their furnaces*
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 1:26 AM UTC
*There is a place I call Soldier Way
Sacked at the hem of one ruddy bay
The open casket of a living ash town
Along the non cerulean periphery
Waves in battalions besieged in the shores' retreat
Flitting ceremoniously to a soup of heat
The white sea calls in a scepter
Of fleeting air lilies in salt-simmered clouds
Subsumed in daydreams of wet palm castaways
Fiery, elusive pearls praised at my feet
Then went on to their deaths, fluxing flummoxed
As flushed touch-me-nots upon human graze
There, twenty eight steps apart—children cheered
Flamboyant flowers in a backdrop of a resigned hue
I smiled against the vigilance of momentary isolation
In great imaginations, the sea does speak
To the boulders by the homely sand
My spring back on their furnaces*
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