the psychoid cerulean
life is decidedly NOT a beach though there are times
when you think the beach is within creepingreach (it is not)
you go to the same one with a variety of gentleman callers
4 to be exact you marry one then beaches disappear
into the archetypal abyss marital bliss +horror
(oh the horror)
but you have carried that beach now for some time 43 yrs
not to put too fine a point on it you know every grain of sand
wet+crustacean now ashes dust +rust now in memorium
the light is glinting slanting-moist it is the unus mundus
the alchemical eden where all possibility lives untarnished
by the clashing opposites
by change age dysenteries
impermanence sucks
it’s all still alive pristine +coppertone
hey sprinkle my old bones there!
and forget my contact info
__
Spring 2025 ..fuck the weeds of yesteryear.. ..festering..
songanddancegirl 