Communicator (communicator) wrote,
Communicator
communicator

Rockley beach

I am going out tonight because it's poetry group. In fact we are meeting first to stuff ourselves with noodles. Carbohydrate and poetry. The ingredients for a perfect evening.

Rockley Beach

Time’s bawdy hand rests on Orion’s belt
One mica-fleck of light, indigo thunderheads
You feel the water at your ankles
Lapping the sand like milk
Are you real, you accidental form?
You are made of things, and they in turn
Are made of things much smaller than themselves
And from a certain angle I can see
In disposition somewhat like a man
Or like a woman standing in the sea, looking out to sea
Mostly of darkness, splattered with sucking fire
The ghost-crabs seethe
Peep up with dot-eyes at this massive form
Sketched out by star-pricks on their empty home
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