Scalability

Arches inarticulate in the sun’s swell.

Silence feasts on birds.

Blotted by its own light, the moon accrues its bloom.

It tugs the sea’s lip.

These bricks have a thousand

thousand years. My hands

are in their twenties.

Words won’t say what’s beyond the page, won’t

gather thought into a world.

The gaudy script of a neon sign

bars the night’s heat.

Wintering

egrets beached

on a cold day

the color of their wings

almost absent

the color of the ocean

winding in

abandonment’s barb you stand

on the coast

aluminum scraps

sifting in foam

noon moon

dejects the tide

water levels

rise

flotsam in place

a buoy

floats the rope

sight inscribes a thought

on the seascape’s

tome

tan grass

in thin wind

smudges the untouched

sky

gust of gulls

the motor slurs

mussels grip

the post

water licks

the jetty

clean

it washes

it lashes