which keeps you afloat. And where does it comes from? Somedays from the sky into a watery depth. Sometimes from the unconscious, upward. And sometimes, it's pure horizon. A body at rest.
Meals are like this, too. And while we're on slippery subjects, aren't reflections liquid pools of tar?Others might suggest, ink of squid. I'm fine with either.
Herald the friend living in a new place
ReplyDeleteall the past relics packed away again
her books her spoons her figurines
left for the other people's children
it should be thus, don't you agree?
up on the tower is a sacred bell
and unreachable knells with which to ring it
I think back of how we laughed at it
refraining
from the oblivious salty sea
on that crossing to Bermuda
in the shell of the cruise
rocking us across the Atlantic
in the freezing off-season
bargain pleasures for two girls knowing
nothing different