Friday, 30 September 2011

galloway befriends the yellow ghost

the beach was pure and white despite the frightfully grey and sleety rain with clouds
grounds still squeeled under foot and paw and the shadows of the dunelands there were definitions
i looked up towards the running water rolling towards me in three's then it leaves
back down the beach towards its mother the weight behind the sprawling fingers
and the prints again, swirling behind me one two and thee, the three none on bended knee
it's a forever kind of beach and the island out there we'll never reach and never care to
reef rings it and throws back towards land and the distant waves break over that
can you taste the salty air like when you visit the windy beach in winter the one time that you always recall
when the wind was full of ocean spray and the foamy waves smash into each other with chaos
a desert of water further than you can see and deeper still into the black and crooked floor with all its animals
old tire marks gasp for breath as they are drowned by rolling sand and little white shells mosaic the floor
the seabirds are used to it though the gulls look pissed and their usually sneering eyes sneer with vigor
and a single breath is enough to fill the body with all its magic and the mind doesn't work so hard at all                  

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