as if I threw a rock into the ocean

[sweetwater]

the door opens into
the perfume of coffee and baked bread
on an afternoon in August
late into the summer

without thought or time
for breakfast remembering
the night before as a conversation
i was supposed to be having

the walk itself
a peaceful jog in the bleach
of sun and sky and dry
leaving behind the expectations of the past
as if I threw a rock into the ocean
never to see it again

the hangover I was supposed to be enjoying
was more literary than real
if only to write in the exercise of obfuscation
as pure metaphor of the mind

the cafe on waterside opposite
a pre-combustion museum as artifact
and a marine station impaired
by inclination and view
of a mountainside with trees and a
grove on a grass hill

became the hiding of detail
as something in the obvious missing

[constantine]

this is truly superior. you made a good choice with the title. the poem provides its own title.

[silent woman]

a peaceful jog in the bleach

such a clean feeling

[sweetwater]

poetry comes across in the context as narcissistic
the attempt to avoid the implication
is extremely wraught with displeasure
for each failure