(May 2022. Co-written with Libby in Santa Monica or maybe Malibu, on the day I left LA.)
the way the self is something
overlapping
to touch like water
the pelican knew when you asked her to dive
folding her wings into foam
the ocean all touch
foam edges
like smooth backs of slid fingernails
to smile sideways enough into the blue
and sand tilted my head to face
a vertical ocean, sideorb suspended
a streaming drop of water speeding
suspended from an electric wire
they joust to the ultimate seam as if to burst through to more sky
look at all these jumpers!
high tide buggies!
sand rocks.
Beatin' Paths ~~~ The journey to the Great American Novel 