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we frantic
for secretive places

a cave inlet, dim fire,
where we could claw
each other to pieces

like animals
love a distant scent,

all sweet conversation
make hunting spears
no word is meant

who preys whom
what brings us here

primitive echoes
assail our skins
habitual betrayers

ours, yours, bodies  
some lurking thirst

of centuries digs its
claws into flesh
like animals

love a distant scent...
Before my eyes,
The sea stretches far;
An infinite scroll of chiffon
Rolling and unrolling
In shades of green and sapphire

In its sedate hours of brooding silence
A calm expanse with feeble waves
As if seized by an uncanny lassitude
Lying in majesty
Swirling in ecstasy

Within this mammoth silver submarine,
How many mysterious live forms thrive!
What curious shaped corals, what all sea urchins!
What wealth of fish, what gigantic mammals!

Between the blue sky above
And the blue sea below
I see seagulls fly,
The long beaked pelicans prey,
Grampuses heaving their huge form
Above the calm surface
And the milky spray
Tossing shiny pearls
Upon the stretching naked strands

I can see a distant sail
And the hull of a ship
Gliding over undulating waves
Leaving a frothy trail of foam behind
With water churning and spiraling around
Where sharks and seals and dolphins swim

Piles of silver clouds move above
And the golden sands stretch below
With periwinkles, ***** and shells
Scattered by the receding waves

Splashing tides, dancing weeds
Rising crescendo, falling rhythm

Oh! What a splendid scene
In the rosy gleam of this evening!
What delectable mélange
Of tinkling sensory delights!
 May 2016 Skipping Stones
aar505n
It's hard to know which way the wind is going to blow
And whether I will blow with or against it
Weather is temperamental
It has its own mentality - its own sovereignty.
And in a sense, innately sentimental.
How spring brings life - winter takes it.
Season change with little reason
Not strange in the grand scheme of things. Does it really matter how green the ground is?
How blue the skyline?
Does it harm us if it's not warm enough? What's enough?

I don't know which way the wind is going to blow.
But blow it will and maybe this time I'll  blow with it.
 May 2016 Skipping Stones
aar505n
I don't know what I want in this world.
I don't know what is worthwhile on this Earth that can make me smile.

It keeps spinning
And I keep turning over in my mind -
Does mankind even know what it wants?
Are we in love or just bored?
Filling up time before we're buried,
Chasing our tails and tales of how to live.
Tired of this town - strive to leave before it gets you down.
And when you leave you'll take the town with you and start again.

So the Earth keeps spinning.
And I stop smiling at what we think is worthwhile.
Because I don't know, maybe,
I don't want this world.
Waking up feeling fresh and disenchanted with the human condition
(Also I feel like I could add to this so it's a possible rough draft)
The Day may come when you'll,
Think nothing of me.
The Ring will be left on the dresser,
it's drawers...
Empty.

On the kitchen table,
A letter labeled for your eyes only, explaining
A conversation with Sarah Bradford
and why you left me.

A lonely you makes a
Lonely we
And with every Nocturnal dawn and
Morning rain that you'll see.

You will remember
These words
You will
Remember me.
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