Tides

Three days later...

One thousand feet,

might as well be miles,

above the tides below,

I stand

on the dry, clumped dust

of a petrified landing,

of a precarious beach

Hanging where it does not belong;

Undercut by the wind,

by the rain,

One thousand feet

in the air.

I stand watching the sun

curving, rounding, setting

again and again

The same sun -- A different horizon

hours later...

Others watch,

Others stand

Upon sands as ancient

as those underneath my own feet,

Sands that I shall

never see

never touch

Two thousand miles,

as far as the sun,

away from me.

The Properties of Dust

1.

The Well

Moreh

Orienteering

Tides

The Properties of Dust

2.

Storm

Oncology

Upon the Ruin

Golgotha

Demolition

3.

Watching a Woman From Across the Room

Moonrise

First Snow

Antarctic Whispers

Lines

Bedtime Prayer

4.

The Red Car

Something Lost

Slough

Home

After the War

5.

Lair

Love Poems

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Rubble by A. F. Litt

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