9
Body of Land
I think as I walk along the beach that the sea forms to the land and that the land shapes the sea. I think as I go along the breaks— is it the sea forming the land and the land being shaped by the sea? I think to myself as I walk along the rocks and sand between broken boulders, and stones old bones! like my own hard foot-bones— leaving prints in the soft sand— that a body shapes to the land, while a land shapes the body. ~~ My notebook and pen Rest on an old desk by a window On a far island, away from what I knew
Working here: a line from long ago. Dropping it into the sea, watching it sink into black depths. Paying out the thread hand by hand hope it won’t run out.
Thinking forward and back, thinking about now, also: not thinking. Doing nothing, waiting for spring. Stoking the boiler, weeding and writing, eating. Maintaining that thread.
