Sunday, August 20, 2006
I found this shell, a fragment on the sand;
A poets perfect spiral cracked by time,
Crushed by tides, abandoned on the shore.
The gulls were done with what had lived inside.
The striped shell and pearl insides, both picked clean.
Snails and crabs had scoured the smallest chambers.
The empty test left me dreaming of whorls;
Imperfect spirals wraped around my heart.
Each cell extended life another day.
Between the sun and wave I lost my self`.
A great sound echoed in that broken shell:
Cupped against my ear, something lost returned.
All along the beach a great silence fell.
My empty head against a broken shell.
Posted by william at 1:52 AM