when the wind pushes on your back, do you wake up as i, do you feel it as i do, and when it presses against your face, do you have the rush of jubilation- i do- the salt in the air and i can feel the bow crash, i can see the cool grey on horizon melting into atmosphere and what else is there to give but us- what else is there to know but this?
tiny pins pricking wet sting on skin and in skin but just skin is this and no scent of brother blue sinking anymore - i want it back - no smooth cool touch on my sheltered eyes, i want it back
past pacific pulling me, aroma of the deep, past pacific stretching me, sink into the drink
i wandered today and i was lost in the maze of the earth, sweaty soil killing.
i went past so many turns and bells and whistles screaming.
the trucks and sirens - calling, calling, never calming.
brown dust rising, and fields of wheat and bean and corn - upon horizon i see only new dust and dawn, new light and new sun
no end to the soot about and no blue stretch to comfort gaze - was it i that deserted?
i just wanted cool grey, i just needed slow pull, i just dig into it too much and i can't get enough, i can't drown enough-
I CAN'T STOP


___---parch