two gulls squawk and defecate
on the head of a penguin statue.
here in the state’s northwest it
is just an idle gesture like tide
pounding marbles on beach walls.
the bay is a bad act of geometry.
we can only cartwheel when the
tide is out two times daily lunar
calculations on flat mud sand.
a thousand shells spiralling despite
a lack of golden principle. one greedy
tern empties the cup of a whelk.
the bus glides through twice a day.
baristas stare out to horizons whilst
frothing hearts on flat whites.
the wind smashed boat shed
has become a kind of rhomboid
minus its sharply accurate degrees.
on the gradient someone points
a telescope to far ambitions.
infinity in figure of eight circles
plays light tricks on the headland
and it could just be illusion but it
could relatively be a ray theory.
a couple seeking clear parameters
in the angler’s cove overestimate
some blue blasted expressive need.
on the jetty flathead gape in ab
sense of sea. bucket list adding and
subtracting something more solid.
perhaps there are solutions but
the sun is incandescent white today
the sky an ivory white, the sails
hypotenuse against white flotillas,
the hulls riding perturbations that
propagate through waves of water.
6 equal pieces
1 November 2017