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LYING BY THE SEASHORE
LYING BY THE SEASHORE
We lying by the seashore, watching foam and quay
And the fathomless sea, mocks the mortal eye
Who follows endless horizons, of perpetual pipes
With no end, hollow and dark as the sun’s own shade,
For in this grave of both sea and quay a calling out
For beginnings and ends is as grave and exuberant
As the shortfall and the overabundance of of it all.
The cold lunar silence of the most gibbous of moons;
The monotonous tides of boring circadian rhythms; and,
We ribbed between desert and water typhoon storm,
With heavenly music over both shore and quay; alas,
We own and are bound by this sovereign strip of sand,
Watching sea and quay in their innumerable brewing,
The stratum of the sea and red rock quay: neither can we
With mortal eye withstand the innumerable brewing of death.
Such is the division of shore and quay; such is the drowning
Of suns and their innumerable horizons; such is my life
Lying by the seashore with the brewing of shore and quay
