8
I hear footsteps
and the blood begins
to listen,
the scrunch
of boots on sand
on concrete steps:
coarse bristles
crisp rusking
on the steps…
I swam here
two seasons before
the tremendous surge
the summer, swore
I’d wear my {~} more
than I had been, habitat
of work and that
amazing pride
a father earns
remaining while his child
yearns eras
ahead of him.
the acceleration
agents, degreasers,
a leaf blower…
the Cleaning firm
is sweeping the ground
floor sand back
to the beach.
and swiftly I incline
toward my underwear,
half a hardy, light pivot
in the hips, gesticulating
limb, a secondary
minimum influence,
like shadow
the sun-light accentuates
on this melon, geranium
this feel-capsule of platforms
spun hippity hop
sharing nearly everything
we’ve got
a winning method
to attract & keep hot
the controlled emotion
of minds secondary
not less, strangers, pent
up as the smoke is when
unlit.
thanks Rob…moved a lot of things, private and public
Good to see you are still more potent than the after shocks & beached paua Dean… take care down there.