 This is a sketch I made on the end of the spit. | I've recently returned from Homer with 19 students, two co-teachers (Dick and Joe), some committed parent volunteers, and two poems. Wabi Sabi Tanka Living relic scraped Its oft told myths on bark scrolls. Pointed, unpleasant places exposed, ugly and Whole disfigurement. Superb. |
| Sand Shapes Less definite, less rigid, less certain, lest We forget what love is and how to begin again. At each tide, the sand concaves and convexes into feathers too heavy for flight. Sand shapes itself into mountain ranges, River basins, and pools that vein new life into the sun. I am beholden to the promise of a new day, a new wave. I have stamped these sand shapes, here. Loneliness is improbable as grains reverberate You back to me, back to you, back to me. The sand shapes then swirl into the belly of a wave. I whisper, "You're sublime, everything is sublime." Meekly reverential, I swell and the ocean takes residence In my marrow, and I am sand shapes and weightless. | |
