tidal flats
I hear the heartbeat
of my thoughts
the sound of sleep
from Elsinore
beginnings erupt
from my end
day-fall —
the rat-a-tat-chat
of otherness
between our words
we sip eternity
. . . so ordinary!

my ears race to the silence at the end of the line

at dead low water
in coming and in going
commit coincide
in the wings —
earth wake
last of us
under a full moon
winter rain
once in a . . .
clear water drips
into wine
fast becoming
the last refuge
of the literary word
raw emotion:
over mass extinction
the milky way
free of fog
tree image becomes
a tree
sound of rain —
left and right of me
the not me
deathly still —
against a cloudless sky
a leafless tree
today the sky
being clear 
lost in light
a trout swirl mid-stream
ends the tale
hill folds
as if defined
by fog
wading girl
a comet keeps pace
for her