opinions about life, work, and spirituality

Seal; no word for “typical”

July 31st, 2006

He: baby fat black, speckled nose.
Dark twilight eyes, unquarried granite
Infant separate
Up and down the wood he slides,flippers slip
Waves spill plump body, milk from upset glass

He clings, but restless ocean
Knows no tenderness
like breast of mother

Rot shelf lumber chosen bode
But sea is cranky, rushes towards young smooth skin and fur
Exhausted, moving weary through water
Desperate barks from wet abdomen
Where is mother? Where…where….?

I turn, peach pit throat
Will myself unknowing
of this;
typical ocean story

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