I hold on strong to the pain of separation,
As if the lesson of being alone is an end in itself:
To be free of the walk in crystal
Where every vibration is full of eyes,
Light released on its way through, equally
Given and received.
Better to vie to be paid attention to,
And yearn, like any victim, enough to offer
Anything that’s true, and accept even the smallest
Hint of praise as acceptable, as something due,
Than be responsible
For the trajectory of gull, the spray kicked up
Into radiance, or be the slow flow yielding
To the resistance of the shore
And the currents of thought caught in the tow,
To only be over them, like wings in the sun,
In hovering become what can only be known
A second behind, the shell shine, the ripples in
The blue sand, echoes from a distant mind.
A second behind, the shell shine, the ripples in
The blue sand, echoes from a distant mind.
Maybe the sheen out all the way to Catalina
Is something to be sensed in reaches of space,
As what is there is mingled with what’s here, silently,
Beyond the surface that I am, to feel only wind
As the children on the sandbar chasing fantasies of crab
Become shadows. The layered folds of blue give way
To the hegemony of gold, as the shapes move to late
Afternoon abstraction.
And in the pits the fires begin, like flags
Of those who resist the limitlessness of love,
To articulate the degree of aloneness
We need to feel, to be.
What looks out, from the piers, in wide windows,
An incandescent silence of white.
