The faces in the rock
look to the sea
The massive tails of swells
that hiss and flail
And you cannot call it
compassion
To stand in warning
to give anything at all
To the foolish drunks who dance
across the rip tide floor
But faces give as faces give
without even meaning to
And one feels at home
on the earth
With what little there is
to gather
After the wind and the moon
have had their way
