Friday, August 28, 2015

still rough

lists flutter in the social breeze
of course, all the tribunals, modern tribes
a coast dark blue with them, somewhere

I go down to the gulf one day
join the breeze
and I don't know anyone

tide has washed in pieces of broken brick
the gulls dive for fish
if that means I don't care

though I pick up a piece
almost circular, red, mineral-specked
I could skim it

I put it in my pocket
it's still rough
there seems no point in keeping it

it's in a bowl on a low table
today is a grey day
I felt it just now



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