Words by the Sea

useless in the wind. Vain suggestions
to an endless tide. The beach, grains
of ears, listens to the whispers
of a blurred cloudy sky. Sun
of the Mediterranean, daughter
of the gods, (reader of Kafka),

let us talk of sadness and eat on the cliffs
with a castle between us. Let us glorify
these holes, these human faults,
this inability to connect. Let us suppose
the context of night dictates personalities.

Let us reflect on the transient abilities
of the mind. Bold trees grow from sand,
the legless walk amidst the noise of doubt,
the waterfall of words assembles
in short novels on the broken shelves
that line the cliffs.

- I have been asked to speak
for the glowing eye in the night,
the rises and falls, the black
intervals that mark time -

The wingless birds wander the coast,
too big to notice ants crawl under
their feet. Let us do all of these things
without purpose. We'll cast nets
in the water to catch the ugly words
that swim in jolts and end up catching
a drowned moon, full and rotten
from the salt of the sea.