Monday, November 10, 2014

11.10 - NaNoWriMo



We play push-pull with the sea;
squint out exoskeletons on the sandbar.
Bent lit cranes bow like brachiosaurus
and I pocket a shell with busted jaw,
foamed edge of our kicks
leaving bleats in seersucker sand.

Seven hours somewhere,
future on other planet type place,
location settled only when sidewalk ends and
sand declares ground,
brick grows
each blink.

The heat peels you--
sweating blues. Not a cloud in reach.
I practice making routes familiar,
daydream a work shift ending, some event
four stops away
on the train in a party dress
three burners in on dinner or
reading in bed
buzzed on balcony
writing odes to winters I'll never forget

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