August 16, 1978, Blue Mountain Beach
A sight this winter beach all white and desolate. I guess even the sea
Come with me and I will paddle us across the south side of heaven. I’ll spread out a handful of stars
At night I’d sit at my window and watch sidewalk strangers passing in the illumination of moon and streetlight
Drifting off into the whisper of t… While watching seagulls playing at… Floating on sea spray With wings of laughter Quiet sundown
I left today or did I? I kept telling myself that I was going home so I could be alone
We slept within the same sphere captured happily under morning’s dew. As children
You will not remember that day, that feeling of morning when we were held one to the other my laughter
I have not seen of gods only men lying on their backs in the dust and children
Children swing north to south on grey rusted chains - red to them. Seasons move,
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…
Riding to the water’s edge that da… Her and I on horses she’d ridden many times before.
If the sands of time that I have spent in tears were poured on me I would be crushed in a single moment.
So many lost among battlefields and blood spills Letters written and never sent.
SUMMER: I’ve been to the sea many times and each time it’s different. Each wave looks the same Rolling in Rolling out