H to O

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

Of land

Lies

Literature

Lucidity.

Laughing as the tide goes out, and the empty shells stay

Locked on a sandy shore of silicates and simplicity.

 

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