We unsurely ran, senses firing and offsetting strobes towards a glittering shawl, set low around a sightlessly curved neck of the horizon. Coastline on our feet, a burning beach on our soles, to the water then, for our souls.
As you stare; stop looking… for answers on every wave, and under the tiring sun that lowers into its new water bed: forever creased. Each nearing roll of surf perpetually attends to the beach where you wander; reaching out and soaking, smoothing scars of soft land and human hand, from land loving creatures.
The bubbling roar of white noise; rising and dipping in volume; teasing your ears into hearing frequencies from lost radios stations: faulty and alluring. Every time this happens something is taken from you, soon replaced by a specific space to lighten your walk inland.
All this… as you stand, feet sucked by gooey miniature rocks that table gels of dead jelly fish; glistening like little brains of the sea; forced up upon confusion and violence from the mighty froths of wash.
Dry twinkling grains
Soft sucking imprints
Moulding
Swallowing spaces
Between your toes
Temporary still
Of someone’s moment
Until erased
By unempathetic sea
A liquid giant
Sand pushing machine
Of Its own arcade
No coin-op
As the lighthouse
blinks its eye,
the seabirds laugh;
as soon as coastal rocks
dive backwoods to the sea,
when boats below
do collide, harmlessly,
into themselves.
And as long as
the shore-wind blows
its crystal salt kisses
to nightwalkers lips,
scattering diamonds
along coastal paths,
the pebbles,
pulled by the moons lost drink
clap their celebration.
All the while,
glimpses of
an alternative life;
noticeable by chattering
at every opening of a door.
Everything,
near-bye,
chased by a yellowed light;
bathing and outlining
loyal machines as
they click;
to temperatures
of their original setting.
Somewhere
the tired,
the travelled,
stare at waters old,
new, then old,
from cliff-faces resting.
Before deeper into night
arrives a more peaceful light
and so the lighthouse
shuts its eye.
I Eat Let.ers 