holes burrowed in the damp sand/shells, skins, feathers embedded in the sand/broken glass and trash, bottles hidden in the shadows of the sand
and two couples, young, hide under the boardwalk with blankets and a tent. One guy strips, throwing off a fedora, to his underpants while running to the surf.
The other guy follows, dives into the sandy waves.
Their girlfriends watch from the shade, laugh. Shake their heads. They throw a blow up ball, smile. Shake their hips.
houses built upon the hills/grasses grown upon the hill/rocky cliff of dying grasses on the hills that overlook
la playa
a seagull drops a shell, its half full contents pour pink onto the porous ground.
About the Creator
Joe Nasta
Hi! I'm a queer multimodal artist writing love poems in Seattle, one half of the art and poetry collective Eat Yr Manhood, and head curator of Stone Pacific Zine. Work in The Rumpus, Occulum, Peach Mag, dream boy book club, and others. :P
Midnight
60 seconds… 59 seconds… Time was slipping through his fingers, though he clawed at the falling grains of sand, he could not stop the hourglass from flowing. Around him, the silence was deafening. He had taken over every screen in the command centre, putting the terrible seconds before the terrified eyes of his friends and comrades.
By Alexander McEvoy4 days ago in Fiction
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