Untitled (“between basalt cliffs”)

between basalt cliffs no one mourns the loss of statecraft. a blaze over water reminds a quayside that soon the sea shall round up stoneposts, tapers and— should the seafarer invite tenderness to meander through returning hairlines should his fingers become racy or go idling through wingtips of paranoia —the sea shall watch itself riot and reclaim the storm that snaps and screams and whirls past clambacks porcupine quills seeds of clover flesh of tides.