Monday, March 24, 2008

29. The Sea Of Me

"Man, that walking bag of sea water, is the the oceans
way of going ashore"

"I never knew I was the ocean of my own dreams"

The sea of me
rolls contentedly
over mountains of egos,
under volumes of sighs,
around runs of ruins,
and ends with a shhhhhh of pebbles
on Dover Beach.

The sea of me flows
through translations of pedestrians
betwixt cornucopias of sounds,
around tombs of literacy
and booms of complexity.

Tombs of literacy and complicity
that Dante never guessed
defending the shape of lunacy.

The sea of me
reserves this space to flow
on times continuity.
And down we go and up we flow
around lines of concinnity
that bind us to walk ashore forevermore
as bags of fluid flowing.
Liquids of awareness swimming on the surface.
An intelligent fluid rowing thru the universe.

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