August 16, 1978, Blue Mountain Beach
Riding to the water’s edge that da… Her and I on horses she’d ridden many times before.
The rain is like an old love song. It’s been with me many times before, to call me to sleep
Children swing north to south on grey rusted chains - red to them. Seasons move,
A sight this winter beach all white and desolate. I guess even the sea
This is my first poem to you. They’ll be many more as long as there are seasons to write them in.
I was a sailor of broken ships Eternally lost to the sea until one day in November I was washed on a vacant shore And buried in the secret of the sa…
If the sands of time that I have spent in tears were poured on me I would be crushed in a single moment.
At night I’d sit at my window and watch sidewalk strangers passing in the illumination of moon and streetlight
I wish you were like the shells I’ve collected through the years. I know they can’t wash away anymore
I have not seen of gods only men lying on their backs in the dust and children
I left today or did I? I kept telling myself that I was going home so I could be alone
Religion makes devils of us all. Pain puts things into perspective. “In the beginning...” we asked our… “Who we are, where we are and why… and we invented gods.
Like winter trees that dance with the wind bare its leaves
You will not remember that day, that feeling of morning when we were held one to the other my laughter
Living without you On a love restricted diet Starving in the shadows Turning I saw your face on the wa…