impressions left on sand

***

Mostly we sit, sandy down, and do not a thing,

(as build and tumble tidal walls, and promptly

crumble sisyphusianly) and call peaceful

the clamor, crying out the waving wails.

False the faulty frustrated seas–

seasoned sodiumed up, too bitter to be of much use

except to carry us to some other else

or to sit idly beside

[eyes closed]

close enough to be glad

to be not submerged

in cold weary deep.

 

Yet behind these bulbs, as by

squinting squeezing scrunching closed

i try to shut out the bigness of earth–

still within are

flows more violet, violent blue

(and He could have put them anywhere,

and anything else there)

than any they have seen

when wide open

***

Collective Fun: my entry

***

All stones are broken stones.  – From “44 Aphorisms” by James Richardson

***

alas, pangaea

 

here underneath my toes the softest bed

(silence all about

(morning here is lonely peace

is formed by microscopic graveyard stones

which (if they were not undersized)

would read “the one is hereby crushed and dead”

 

in patient lines the waves bring ever more

(storing them for now

(back to get them will they be

and here deposit ancient crystal bones

which (shards of some lost gemstone prized)

lay glimmering for my eye to adore

 

i wonder at the thoughts of these fine grains

(if they were endowed

with this capability

i’d listen to their every word and tone

which (i don’t know but can surmise)

would sing a song of brokenness and pain

 

the tales of fond rememberance they’d weave

(music all around

(sorrow wafting on the breeze

of days gone by when they were joined as one

which (with this i can sympathize)

are too far gone now ever to retrieve

 

alas, pangaea, once in you we lived!

(tenderest of ground

(lost forever seemingly

that garden lush and soil without stone

which (cracked by time’s relentless pries)

demolished is past aught that aid could give

 

alas, pangaea, you were all i knew!

(sands and i both now

(singing out this elegy

for shattered are we, fragmented, alone

(where once we lived in paradise)

we now can see but glimpses in the blue

 

someday pangaea will be whole anew

somewhere across that haunting, daunting blue

***

Author’s Note: i am not sure it’s done, but i have not received many submissions for my impromptu contest yet, so i thought i might spur everyone on with an entry of my own. Thoughts? Since i am going to judge your work, its only far to request that you judge mine as well. i would appreciate some sound criticism. Also: get to work. August 17th is the deadline.