Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Automations of the Sea


Aloof grumblings of some malleable kind

womanly tapping reminiscent

the sea calms in the roar of its skyline

rights are spread across an envelope

like a blade swimming in Rosetta stone

white maelstroms caress the ground and my flesh

the stones molding into clay

a pedestal far from reach

but close to heart

When will it end?

in a nebulous burst beyond the periphery.

Saints tatter around my swinging feet

evening comes sharply

like a disconnected telephone

your voice crackling on a frayed wire

We are left alone

with a thought of weariness

to be head cold in an April breeze

The Sea.

The Sea.

The Sea will drown all these

empty-headed fears

and take back the hallowed

piece of me

It will dance

like a velvet dream

through our corrugated lungs

It will scream

an old, haunted spiritual

to rest in our supple graves

The ghost of a half-eaten moon

to see the vision of shadowy beams.
- Shaun Millard

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