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Wednesday, August 31, 2016

dreams out of the sea of life - first draft

Alice and the Sea

 

Alice stood alone, looking out at the sea,

rolling and heaving and spraying and roaring,

waves breaking and spilling foam and

water at the quay.

 

She was lost in all of this and in

herself, all rising up inside, moving,

sadness, voices, dance, cellars, skies

from the place where she was born, her dog

near death at home, all disconnected

but all present, as present as the ache

of living in all of this and as alive as 

the tidal stream and the light of the

moon, all a current inside, a shadow

and a far away memory of what

could have been. 

 

There at this place of wind and salt,

she felt her heart beating, her breath

coming in and out, and within the noise

there was a heart of silence in which

she was by now used to go, a center

of being inside, the stream of the

mind not touching it, the restlessness

of the days not reaching, a point from where

observation prevented participation.

 

the hunter watched, seeing her leave, a stubborn neck,

hair wild in the breeze, blowing her nose

and sniffing the scent of the beach

she walked away.

 

The Hunter of a Lonely  Heart

 

He stood there in the shadow of a wall

as if he belonged there since this wall

had been built. Algae and moss grew out

of the fissures between the old granite

stones, they were wet and glittering

in the night. He felt as if he was not existing,

foreign to himself and hidden in obscurity.

Shivering he started to move, staring into

the fog coming now, the wind had dropped,

and he shuffled along the quay without

a horizon. coughing he disappeared

between the houses on the other side.


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