at the shore
Something happened on the way to the sunset baby
a fence post fell, and I believed in art again
an old tradition that followed me through the woods of my life’s waning dusk
even here, where water collides with pebbles,
and no one ever cries, even if they oughta
I know it’s all just a rose gardened to death
a week at a friend’s house made of walls and earth,
commonplace enough but those memories give birth
to mountains, to streams of consciousness
to stones and bones and blinding unknowns
-you will die, you will-
and if you’ve never danced under the moon- you will die still
still in the ground and air and sky, beyond which is the why
in the woods there were three paths, and from those three there were more
where I stooped so low to touch the frost
it was real
I know it’s upsetting that we have to go,
when we’ve only just begun
I wanted to be those pebbles, longer and stronger than I
every pebble that has seen sunsets galore
every wave that has lapped the shore, evermore
hahaha I don’t know why I’m laughing
~
2014 - 2018