It seems that most people
Hatch dreams
At the beach
But I have known
For a long time
That the beach
Is where dreams go to die
The wind and the water
They
Unravel
Everything
When the tangle of thought
And emotion
Is too tight
The beach is where I find them
Unspooling
That is where
I feel rage
And it dissipates in the wind
As I try to walk it off
And then
I think
No one will see how deep it runs in me
The beach
It has more broken things than whole ones
It sweeps what is fragile
Away
And dumps the remains back
Days weeks years
Later
Shells
Fish
Children
Societies
Refuse to treasure
Treasure to refuse
Paradise
To whom?
January 2005
Lovely, lovely, lovely, lovely, lovely.