Saturday, December 31, 2005


When I have walked out to the sea surfing and spuming into meerschaum heaps of lettuce-tinted gauze —breakers becoming light then noise, the ocean raging and rearranging this long spit of sand like a lifeat the mercy of circumstance — I saw the north wind drive trillions of sandgrains to scour every last traceof what the previous tide had done, and gulls snatchhuge clamshells from the swirl and smash themto get at and gobble each salt, soft-bodied helplessness at the heart of its own broken home, and I felt caught between water-violence and the gulls' patience,between shifting ground I stood on and the thunder-turbulence of water, between a slowly disappearingceiling of cloud and the blue sky-cupola it leavesbehind, between titanic ocean-roar and the ticking heart.