Drumming on the Lid of the Tide

Come w/me Blanca I’ll show you the hills on fire
inside the rippling windsound of what birds might think
when we tiptoe thru the ashes.   Smoke in yr eyes
& in yr mind & a taste for pints of amber when you
give me the lowdown on all you thought I didn’t know.
It was great, even though I fell asleep halfway thru it all.
Survival is another way of looking at it.
The dead bury the dead.
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Simple descriptions of landscapes
seascapes
                              parked beneath halos
(interior designed by M.C. Escher
resembling a medieval parking structure
paved with clouds
                                                (the salt water sacrifice implied)
              to ride the pulse back & down
                                                                the surging wall of night
                              where you step, turn & dissolve
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& out there beyond the foam
                              across the broken line of the surf
              the sun balances on the horizon
                                                like a bronze coin
                                                                              (doused in gasoline)
                                                                    on the edge of a spoon