I'm waiting breathing thinking,
Solitude standing.
So maybe life is all is
The repetition of repetition.
There's a great green ocean
Rolling in, and she's skirting
The open outlines of
An amber beacon.

The climbing tower that
Twisting curls beyond
And round inward -
Listens for the shallow sobbing
Of the precisely broken life
And contemplates the tentative hieratic
Clinging softly to salt-stained tiles.
Perhaps they're simple words
And grimy stick-pictures but
We're all encoded in the hard
Mosaic surface of painted ideals.

Touchstone-on-stone
Rainwashed whispered yearnings.
There's an ancient chorus here that
Testifies to filament withered dreams
Burning out to sea.
Witnesses. And Madeliene wuz here
With Sleepy Pig and then
Listen the open seagull cry
Of Radha, she sez Peter u r e' 1st guy
Who makes me feel so wanted.
She's

Wanted poet waits to fly -
Secretly scribbling scrambled script,
And wishing on Quicksilver's slippered wings
Soars, blazing cylinders sliding away.
And here, beside, encloses the tentative kiss
Of Randeep embraced with George.
And then there's Joycelyn loves
Kelvin forever.

Forever the outward spiral
Taut the criss-cross of spiders
Spinning in infinity.
Yet alone dreams are ever
The quiet drenching of
Saltspray on the lover's skin.
Quiet and quiet despite
Echoing searchlights and memory
Ringing dim and distant.

In time the night will fall
And maybe they'll still be around.
Blind to dream across a solemn moon,
See the mirrors of the blackest ocean
Reveal the brightest souls of all.
And then who sez there'll be
No peace for us all here
Survivors among
These gently broken years.