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| loggin' |
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| crabbn' |
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| when the moon is merely a weapons platform ~ poetry will have died |
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| our base-camp |
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| only go left~ left ! |
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| how does a huge link of chain wash up upon the beach |
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| i would have taken this beauty home~ but it's overwhelming stink of iron made me think of bloody noses |
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| point to waves and islands |
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| black gravel~ white spume grey sky~ cold water |
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| barbed wire is like musical notation against trespass |
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| we'll get married here ~ again~ when the world dies and the suns turn to stars |
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| girls ! logs ! waves ! |
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| log-jam hand |
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| low tide greenery |
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| where we live when we leave cities behind |
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| pajamas ! |
NE!L~
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