Watching the Rivulets

"Self-Portrait" June 1, 2012.

I 

see myself 

standing by the 

edge of the sea 

where I carry in my 

chest a bawling wind. It is 

the unrested waves that shout the loudest, 

that shred like curtains. And concealed are the 

soft spoken tongues of moments. Concealed are the faint 

figures framed far away. There is only the immediacy of 

that which comes with the seaweed and salt hitting the nose, 

injecting the body with vapors. The vastness of the open 

water and the open sky is overwhelming and demands 

to be seen through a window where droplets 

can roll down the panes when it 

rains and will ask you no 

questions as you watch them.
And to refuse that
demand is to
remain standing

there.