fresh tracks into the distance
well past midnight
the streetlight afterimage reflected in pools of
unblemished rainwater
stirs with slow echoes of the night
stirs with the slow echoes of the summer

keepsakes she quickly squirrels away
in the tiny pocket sewn into
her deep blue dress
the tiny pocket where she has a
lock of his hair
a picture of the ship he sailed off to sea on
a note he left her telling her
that he would dream of her

now the keepsakes she puts away
are twigs from a tree
a peice of plastic from a beach
bits of things that her wandering mind
grasped upon with a smiling fancy
on a stormy night September 1932
his ship was lost with all hands

all these years she waits
all these years she keeps vigil by the shore
gathering strands of the world
driftwood of lives cast off like her own
set adrift without particular place to be
and she has been lost
in mind and body
waiting for him to return

fresh tracks into the night
well past midnight
the streetlights image reflected
changes slowly
to show a figure walking carefully up the lane
his steps trying to remember
where they had been once before

was he returning
was he just a shadow or dream
she held her breath in delight and in trepidation

in the first light of day
her empty home lay quiet

A prism person's
outline, gone
when I turn my head
Perspective’s prison

Countless cycles
wash themselves sterile
in the circular and kidney
shaped lakes of my veins.
Begging, born again

Everyday I see a new sun
my shadow is
thrown on the horizon
and the light looks weightless,
and I am feather blended
effortlessly, a new ray

But my eyes flick and I
move with the motion
of the earth
rotating to a dark day
It keeps a vague sense of newness
Night is a grainy antannae tv
my edges fuzz away in it’s
loud ocean, I am indefinable
in it’s body.

Light penetrates water and
throws a shadow seven ways deep
Me, a stream
streaming like
light through a window
a bay through a dam

I stream in silhouettes too
in the tar black ocean bottom
Flowing under tired tides
pulled under with the moon

Align
and soon
sea becomes a circle
Prisms thrown
back, a retract into
the keep
it is my skull, my chest
my body contains

I find glory in the unity
of myselves