One and Three

I have always swum too deep in her purple ocean.

I have read too little.

I have drunk from moments impossible.

I have crossed bridges of twine to now.

I have purposefully left doors unlocked.

This too will pass, they say.

What is this?  Who are they?

Why too?  Has everything else passed?

Will it come back?

Where is back?  Is back here?

I have tracked snails into the wild

Only to find them domesticated.

When it is time to change, it is time.

To change.

I have eaten gun barrel loads of plums.

My health has not improved.

I have tasted the undertow of her waves.

Little is not accounted for.

I have relished the smell of vinegars passed.

I have not been able to place the memory.

They too, this says, will pass.

I have given haunted a bad name.

I have danced in tendrils of kelp, relentlessly.

I have sung the song of sand.

Sand has a bluesy outlook on melody.

I have missed most of my experiences.

I have revolted against the wrong establishments.

I have misused structuralism.

I have misidentified piety.

I have overpopulated my slice of the pie.

I have read too much Lorca.

I have broken with all conventions.

I prefer the shade of the elm to the cool of the breeze.

I have gone too far and never come back.

I have leaped before looking.

I followed when they jumped off the cliff.

I lead the way to the rocky shore of the stream.

I barely survived.

I jumped again.

I have calculated the number of hairs on the head.

I have counted the stars in the western sky.

I cashed in my chips on a whim and a prayer.

Unanswered, so far.

I redefined my notion of prayer.

And godhead.

I let my ship sail without regret.

I hastened to redefine regret.

I changed the meaning of pass.

I did away with homonyms, with synonyms, with my sloth.

I touched crabs in their homes with my toes.

This pass will say, they too.

I have danced upon the kelpy tendrils of her emotions.

I have sung the tune of her fall and rise.

Sand has a dinnerware outlook on threnody.

I will stay the course.

The course will do as it will.

I will stay.

I will ride the hook and ladder to the next emergency.

I will glory in the shell of the caracole.

I abide in the house of dwelling sanctity.

I stand at the edge of the precipice.

I will not jump.

To this pass they will say.

I will not.

© 2007/12 – Mark A. Douglas – All Rights Reserved