for the fog
#atone #bodies #capecod #dreams #ethereal #floating #fog #forgetting #massachusetts #newenglandcoast #northtruro #seafog
It arrives on a warm white cloud. It arrives on soft rolls of ocean waves along a sand pebbled shore. It arrives on a bed
I’m glad for mine. The long, aquiline form of it. The way it has shaped, informed my face;
Of my family name. One day, 150 years ago. In a Castle Garden where Jenny
However tender, and moist. The golden skin, supremely crisp. The stuffing,
After you uncork him and he appears in a serpentine of white smoke. Before he grants you
It’s an early Spring morning of bellsong and birdsong, sunsong
Those many, sung and unsung, who gave themselves, often gave up their lives, to fight, in wars,
Red lights flaring like Roman candles at empty intersections. Headlights wanding like blind men’s sticks
The tender new leaves of the trees, emergently green. The white feathers of the wading egret.
My body. Outstretched. On a deck. Between the Sky and the Earth.
Once cloud-high mountains, shaped and worn from hundreds of millions of rainfalls, windfalls, frosts. Rounded now
How deeply are you living, friend? How sense-deep. How heart, and
The limpa from Scandinavia. The ciabatta, and the michetta from Italia, also known as Rosetta. The mantou from China.
Remember that one day you, too, will die. Will cease being here, in body, in breath. Will join all those
It was a wet signature. Full of emotion. Full of eroticism. Still wet, with sweat