page 49

rumble tumble---the foam
piggybacks the wave too,
with me,
my soul,
a shell,

flipping and dipping and coasting
saucer riding down the snow capped mountain
flipping again and crashing
on sand---
i cry.

the sea,
hand out,
comes back,
pulls me,
i cry;

i ride,
i love.

whoosh pssshhh...again.


:::


oil rig, large drill, loud noise,
greasy men, tired lives.

"here we go again."

buttons pushed, louder noise,
large clamp setting, drill its drilling,
black gold searching.

"please, no more."

shaking steel, weak muscles,
rubber boots, expecting money.

"God i hope..."

bubbling, overflowing,
spewing all around feet,
spitting out under pressure,
clear, clean, mineralized water.

"men, we are rich!"


:::


my eyes,
i call them "You-You's";

they do not look, they You.
they do not watch, they You.

they do not see, they You.
they do not observe, they You.

they do not judge, they You.
they do not close, they You.

if i wear "You-You's" with You,
You are all there is.

eye cannot change You.     
nor, do eye want to.     


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