Midsummer shadows and a light sound of bones and hollow shells being rolled over and OVER on the white sand | SHORE || Flow tide | bringing back | DICE AND SKULLS | Across the ocean | footballs and boats drift among | porpoises and phosphorus | THE DELAY OF THE WINDS AND THE CURRENTS | lost things | TOYS OF THE STORM but I | need a friend || And, after the rain, the grass is so long and | LUSH | as if written fresh from the INK OF PARADISE | Put down your sewing, and | take off your clothes | there is a PLACE IN sleep for me | THE MOON AND THE STARS and the great spiral arms of || A single silver needle, threaded through the eye | BLOOD flushes | memories and the | tissues swell and | RETURNED BY THE OCEAN | glisten, if you | move too suddenly, now | oh, | you’ll | SNAP into | TWO | the strand of hair, the | hands of the clock, the | saltwater | necklace and the LINE | on which | all the echoes are hanging and | singing

Lie on your back on the bed | PACIFIC | lifted and drifted | One day the sea came and his house was shattered | The moments that formed him | split and spilt and | THE CAR STALLED AND WE LAUGHED || On the edge of | disconnection | If you are brought to the sea you are brought to the | whole sea | CARRIED AWAY | Her hands | gripped at a silky nothing and she found | at her bare feet | the debris of | an old life she once | called her own


from the series bliss point | angels of disorder
(open-ended, 2012–present)