fever or forgotten wings |
title is a quote from a pablo neruda poem entitled "poetry" |
jetsam floats in the small ripples
the wind gently plays on the surface
and the sky calms.
the grey waters match the grey sky.
the colors blend and twist and swirl and die.
a compass bobs in the tides
the needle lost long ago
no direction, aimless wandering.
the cracked lens from a telescope sinks into the sand
seeing nothing but black now.
everyone is gone.
the water is lonely.
