But only because we were already there,
At the beach for dogs, at the vulva of
The Santa Ana, as the Sonoran sayanara
Continued to snore, more sand than
Could be cried, enough sterling to buy
Back China there was that much left
For the imagination.
The incalculable curl defies all attempts
To normalize what is from beauty
As the sandpiper defies each wave
To play on its drum. Los Angeles looks
Like a diorama from here. The palms look
Like they have written too many screenplays.
The pelicans pass in 3D to remind us
No models have yet pierced the sky.
But the ocean that empties my mind
Only reminds me it was never full.
And what returns comes with a price
In memory I never admitted that I had,
In other lives and other planets, in the eyes
Of snow crabs and dogs. Posedian,
As he hears this, let's go his hold
On his horses, to remind us we are,
Like him, naked, and filled with
The indomitable, where no horizon
Has a limit -- except for the spray
That still obscures, and the wind that still
Resists.
The people finally look out
On what is born from nothingness.
