August 16, 1978, Blue Mountain Beach
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.
This is my first poem to you. They’ll be many more as long as there are seasons to write them in.
I have searched and searched for someone... I’d buy roses just like my father bought my mother
At times I may speak too much of the sea. That is where my last lover came from,
Riding to the water’s edge that da… Her and I on horses she’d ridden many times before.
Living without you On a love restricted diet Starving in the shadows Turning I saw your face on the wa…
At night I’d sit at my window and watch sidewalk strangers passing in the illumination of moon and streetlight
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…
Drifting off into the whisper of t… While watching seagulls playing at… Floating on sea spray With wings of laughter Quiet sundown
We slept within the same sphere captured happily under morning’s dew. As children
A sight this winter beach all white and desolate. I guess even the sea
Children swing north to south on grey rusted chains - red to them. Seasons move,
I have not seen of gods only men lying on their backs in the dust and children
Sitting on silent drift the ocean beside me. Wrestling waters paint the shore as the brush
Come with me and I will paddle us across the south side of heaven. I’ll spread out a handful of stars