untitled II

These shadows are our lives
stretching towards eternity.

The ocean wave of liberation
breaking, receding, never
quite touching the toes.

I watch the shadows grow longer
reaching for the surf –

The  sun going down behind me,
my shadow becomes
indistinguishable from nightfall.

untitled

Thank you for this bumpy gravel road to nowhere, this pristine sidewalk graffiti of thumbprint and initial. I am

not the first to pass this way, not the only traveler on this road, not the only one to mistake the map for the territory – or was it the other way around?

I will not be the last haggard soul, or the final disembodied poet. I look east and see a forest of pens, west lies an ocean of paper. Between

the two there is only me and this bumpy gravel road to nowhere, this pristine sidewalk, graffiti, thumbprint and initial.