It was high tide When I took a look On the other side of maybe The waves were friendly Giants, but friendly giants Reaching out their longwinded Stories for any stray listener Digging their footpads into the muddy goop of winter It's pressing in On the clouds, on the sea On the sand, and on me It's heavy upon us with the scent of pine needles burning Things wash up on the shore And they aren't dirty And they aren't messy And they aren't packaged Perfectly formed particles of sand Perfectly formed by chance And the wind against My scarred knees Helps them heal a little faster The sea salt dried onto My toes Makes them unwind And wriggle a little slower I am that piece of wood That washes up I look like clamshells All burst up and crammed into the smallest corners of the submarine But I am precious Because I am unrare And I am discolored Because I am taken For something That does not exist. The end?
i love reading your poetry krystin it just flows so awesomely plus, this one and the hurricane one i feel i can relate too maybe it's the whole carteret county thing dare i say, maybe there's something in the water?
Wow ! I'm impressed Do you ever read any poems by John Hegley? he writes humour verses but is biographical where can I read more of your work?
