Brazos de Rocas

No flat-footed gait here

For misshapen stones have congregated

Or been placed, and feathered

And weathered away into tables and craters and continents

Step, step, steps remind me

I only see what’s before my feet

thank god for that

These misshapen stones

That furious windstorms have thrown here

That the ocean lays bare its bones here

thank god for that

Recent Posts

The thought process, Worn like a Wampanoag belt, Felt stiff, at times, and, at times, Mighty proud– what A thing ‘a beauty. What, it’s...

A young bird found out an Old bird and said, excitedly, “Old bird, did you realize that the Sky we sail is not empty but Full? Did you...

I could not be Otherwise if I walked To the furthest wharf And threw myself in To where the soft Surround of painted dusk Evinces a...