No idea where the old thought came from.
Over the puddle between Sackett and Henry or cool pacific waters
Where dolphins greet and pose and I play
By sucking down live oysters, and dead dreams.
I wonder who holds the key to harnessing the wind
The proven bedrock of hope
In arm and ages where
Misunderstanding becomes miseries
Millimeters become miles.
We are indeed in America
And I reside on another body
Laughing as the tide goes out, and the empty shells stay
Locked on a sandy shore of silicates and simplicity.