Children of the ocean never cry
I turned a page with water and waves.
It took four weeks to reach the shore
where crabs and starfish dig their graves
with one last heaving bubble, no more.
The truth-seeker is a poet by the sea
who seeks nothing more than what there is,
lodged in his ritual by the window she
has ignited with gulls and her mortal kiss.
The salt that leaned in the winds direction
clawed for yet more unwritten attention,
leaving crest water’s dark resurrection
in a diver’s sudden and wet ascension.
Poetry by Bob
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Written on 2007-07-31 at 01:15
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