Thursday, April 24, 2014

23,24/30 A Note and Page 246

Two found poems taken from Jim Lynch's, The Highest Tide. Images to follow.


A Note
On our
current
sail home
we live
with the tide.

246
I hear faint whispers sleep              
her lips paddle
below my waist
I plow water
glance at moon jellies
thousands of flowers
pack tight the bay
silver sun galaxies
carry out to sea.

1 comment:

Ginna FunkWallace said...

come ON! sick good.