a mussel shell
broken on a beach stone
…how light the rain

stationary, cupping his wings
the gull against the sea breeze
…turning…reversing direction
where stillness and motion

sitting on the beach
face wet from the mist
facing both sides of the infinity

the never-ending adventure
of the blue caterpillar
sipping the fermented spirits
on the other side

pulling the sheets
taute, across the slats of dreamware
dangerously, I join you
at a Parisian cafe
and you, smiling…

what you’ve grown from the earth
though impossible,
I love you
even more

though translucent dew
seeps into my canvas shoes,
even Van Gogh
cannot enrich
the depths of this color

picking notes
on an old guitar,
the charcoal clouds
with rain

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