Thursday, July 13, 2006

Lake Erie Morning

Noting the landscape as expansive
flat and grey
emotionally charged
red flags of
enough space to feel
enough of nothing but waves
the deeply set fishing net poles
the bloody nothing but me
having sat down for chrissakes
the need to get the hell up
banging along the shore
have always creeped me out.
Made me notice the imperfections
of skin and soul
that there is nothing out there
to busy me, really
I sit here facing my father's home
my ghosts in the pause
my inner life
my nothing
and the waves say nothing back
that means much
Everything just is and I have to go.

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