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

All I wanted to do was ride my mo… And make out at Spooner’s Point. But when Mary Daley got pregnant Her father threatened me with the… So I married her and went to work

Time for a pit stop Half face in rear view mirror Road unwound behind

Early morning mist Loon fishing quiet water Shining wake behind

a cold moon filters down through the purple asters no explorers have returned with caterpillar robes and dandelion gold

white-rimmed waves crawl reluctantly shore ward moody city skyline rebuffs shafts of sunshine cloud confusion

which of our ancestors did it - traded wings for thumbs burdened us with possessions fed us to the uncompromising earth…

Suppose you was 18 years old And never had a single thing In all your life to call yours alo… Except your body and your face? And suppose you went to work

liquid blue nightgown made of lighter fare floats in romance of autumn air a ballerina in an erotic dance longing to join that v-trail in th…

The taste of winter ice Dug in August from the sawdust Of Conley’s ice house The slap of the screen door On Grammy’s porch

Now that love has died Only silence remains between Two lonely people

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…

seek the council of wild things in… leaves that turn their silver side… before the rain slender reeds that accept and bend they will sew your words abroad

Empty moorings and Quiet lighthouse watch the bay Crawl back to the sea