I watch while the mountains crumble

a piece of flotsam in the passing
why am I seeing it from afar
my hair plastered to my skull
salt sticks into me
that abrasive feeling does not leave
when did my feet get webbed
when did I sprout wings
the ocean sleeps in front of me
sky is running away
that flotsam is a piece of a mountain
the world is unusually calm
while I accept the gift of peace

“I wanted to be the last redwood, now I pirouette with the jinx”


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: