far off cloud in distant breezes

in the rustling flags of night

lift my fragile waking pieces 

with the anchors of the light  


from dreams impossible to swim

that I need to get across

the squalling furies of the limbs

and the breaching lines of human loss


the fading jewelry of the moon

reverberating on gold leaf

morning’s diamond-pointed dune

crumbling into shelving reef


promise me the ocean grass

the tides of waving spaces

blown from skies of liquid glass

mirrors of our saving graces


the sheeting wash of my own seas

scudding and immense

made all too visible by these

hints of endless consequence