Wednesday, May 12, 2010
The weightlessness of surfing,
the unmonitored pursuit that is
catching a wave
into dead space populated
brings me crashing to the beach.
Buried. Inside out;
retching around a glassy pebble.
An avalanche of unanswered mail,
virtual splintered bone.
Orbit and muscle, unblinking eye.
The sin of omission. A harbinger.