Underneath a shadow (sometime),
Sit in seriousness
For the waves that
Wash over your back,
For the welcoming (wafts) of sandalwood and
Eucalyptus rain, for the becomings that grow
In small urchins
The pincers of baby crabs.
We are pulling up nothing from the bottom today
Just floating endlessly and elated above
Smooth and steady sleeping rocky tides –
(On and on…)
Where there’s no season to this
Save the circling
Smoke that slowly
Halo rings our heads,
Where Jezebel nests now and then in the shells and twigs of our hair –
And carousels soften
(Into liney fingers) and vein,
Sallow and stern and
On promenade to garner all gratefulness speechings –
Though yes – She will carry us across to the other side.
Hum and we put our palms inside one another
Instead of hiding in pockets
Decorated for yesterday’s chapter.
Ohhh for these rapturous contemplations
Albeit pungent possibility) –
Slick and wet like seafoam and breezeway
Passages hiding behind the black of the sun,
– If we only can find the door,
Lift and push the mountain,
Find a turning point,
A (blistering) of the shallows
In favor of
Something grander still.
Then push on with your oars,
Lick the tide
And carry the moon under (each) of your tongues.