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surf and turf of St. Andrews olde salts and bullshit under one blue tarp gossip thick as molasses sparks quick as match-lit gas

I saw their faces as clearly as if… on their stones beneath their name… heard their voices in the trees whose roots go deep into their dus… and into the dust of this Island

last night the winter world transformed to summer’s sphere fireflies in the night their aimless paths alight

Snowflakes or fireflies Beneath an oval moon Do I wake or dream?

the darkening hills a triumvirate of crows in the glowing gloom

wind tangled trees coiling across a yellow moon spiraling leaves surf-curled dunes

grey rocks flowering in melting fu… first blooms of March after winter… a flock of ducks is muttering in t… the first light of day to brush th… shakes the branches they reply…

Autumn dusk descends Street lights run on rain-slicked… To glistening pools

little lies, seeds of thyme shallow-rooted, often sewn cover the largest stone yet a tree springs from a single seed

she watches him as if the fault were in her eyes poor shorn Sampson withered hands grip the canes that barely hold the frail reflect…

Beneath that secretive smile A strong hot thrust From a sidewalk grate….

inhumanity kills boys civilization kills girls

the universe opens accepting my homecoming sky races by

SHIPBOARD last night from starless skies a t… stunned and shaken, seeking shelte… from unfamiliar shipboard lights I watched it falter with wings out…