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The sky brushed by wings
as ocean music is
sweeping in across the coast
highway
I would narrow but not limit the focus
boil enough water for a single
cup of coffee mid-
morning an exception
L i b r e t t o
One voice describes
another voice checks the references
& a third voice sings harmony
Time passes & pelicans explain the
weight of the sky leaning pretty heavily
on the cypress right now
doesn’t necessarily ring a bell
anywhere but here
for Pamela
Horses lift their heads like sea
creatures emerging from a darkwater
tide
easily translated in the mythology
of your eyes
but I’m thinking about your
dark hair splashed across the
pillow as you sleep
& the faint whisper
of your dreams
rippling in what’s left of the
moonlight as it spills in through
the window
& your breath like the soft
seabreeze that made the petals of some rare
orchid tremble
in the dark
just before dawn
the day you were born
You had to tunnel thru the sand
to get there
dragging a surfboard
& a case of Mexican beer
In those days Odysseus was rarely
seen without his sunglasses on
no matter what time of day
or night
& little John the Conqueroo lit a pipe
like Lopez at the Waimea
on a re-direct from aliens who were
handing out cough syrup
as sunlight filtered down thru the sweet
summer smog
Pier Pressure
The moon sends a message
only the tide can read
You draw the lines
connect the rattling in yr head
to the rush of foam across
the sand
emerald & chrome
&
raw strands of burnt
kelp
methadone inside your
underwater
ballet as if it was
me tapping on the glass
Kicking the Tires
How’d you
wrap yr head around a
theory of reverence like that
Did you test the water first or
just dive in beneath the
What’s your mother’s
& why scan the zodiac of
tears on the sleeve of a god
you never met
Never wanted to
spent that kind of coin
What made yr eye that dark
yr blood lit up & souls out of Erebus
Why pearls and the signature
neon when ocean haze
crawls out of eucalyptus
Was it silver caught the sun
glare squinting
some of us would like to know
Soaked in Bleach
Nobody walks here
we are all
driven
that is to say
we drove here
with expired
plates & a leaky fuel pump
empty beer cans
rolling around under the seats
just the right kind
of music for those who prefer to
sleep behind the
wheel while
standing on
their heads
Black and blonde sand blown across the highway
Pismo to Mussel Shoals burning beach tar on a
roadside voodoo shrine as the wind bends
Why would I tell you where it is
damp petals unfolding
The name of the ocean sky