Western & Country

Play the kind of music
that makes me feel like
doing laundry by hand.

Along the Beach of No Return

I find shells in shells. The sun
in my mouth and the sand
in my ears, I know the
hold & tug of under-
tow. Weeds like
waves tangle
wind and
sound.
Cry.

Half Out of Water

I am working on tomorrow, or the day after.
It is sad that I have not been invented.
You told me that I am not wanted.
I believe the rain is colder.
No wonder feels like
this slip of tongue
under the eye
and all,
yet.