After a 30 year hiatus I have started to write again I guess I'm trying to make sense of my world now, borrowing from my past and anticipating the future. I cherish the time I find to craft with words. Words have always meant so much to me. My words mean much to me and I hope to everyone else. Why else bare my soul?
Iphoto( a working title)
I scanned.
I cropped.
I enhanced.
I scattered
you among my Iphotos.
Hiding you so only I can see.
This debris of high school:
emotions.
matches a memory
like my students
match sight words
on the teacher's table.
I forgot the difficulty
of sight words.
It feels good
to have them rush,
surge,
back; like the tsunami
crossing the Pacific
and sweeping a man
out to sea.
I too, could wash
to sea
and be found
on some northern beach,
or sink to feed
the crabs
my students say live
on land.
I could say to you:
I did not realize
when I gave myself
to you (that first time)
the attachment could NOT
be broken.
It only takes the rise
in tide
to overwhelm the shore.
(little crab feet)
(they eat carrion you know)
It begins like a gentle
lover's kiss- the sea upon the sand
that does not stop for any man(woman?)
then pulls seaward
the action is underneath
the water,
rolling the bottom,
sending crabs crashing
in the tidal pools.
submerged lagun
that feeds
and never nourishes.
I can't let you go.
I can wrap you Nori style
and toss you like a message
out to sea,
300 miles
down
in my brain
to be remembered in ocean dreams
and briny salt.
