A Prose Poem
aimlessly wander, pick at the memories, pick up the shale pieces, rise like old tide.
collect what the water shares, spit out the salt beads, shake off the sticky life, hear for your wise ones
smile at the crab things which hide under sandblots, dig deep those toes, which have walked where you came
pinch at the pink parts, the red bits, the after-browns, run from the yellows, while there’s still time…