PLEASE HELP BLUE PRESS STAY AFLOAT

Friday, November 16, 2012

Radio Remix

The dripping fog greets another morning here in
Santa Cruz
                        although it could just as well be Papua, New Guinea
for all I know
                        The sun a pale neon memory submerged
in surging green-dark water
                                                I’ve seen flames the very same color
burning up out of the wet sand
            cormorants in their feathered robes huddled on the rocks
above tidepools edged in rust & Mexican turquoise

The clawhammer guitar curving against the wind
plays the tune you thought only you knew

            the music & commentary piped in through
speakers nailed to the graywhite sky

I may have been reaching out to you with two or more hands
at that very moment
                                    like a riddle that can only be told in Sanskrit
as 3, no check that, 4
                                    pelicans flying in formation
glide in low over the surf
                                                & disappear into the fog