pillows for the waves

being just a little walking, standing, thinking thing,
I can't really embrace today.

I cannot hug
a rising sun
or splashing light.

I cannot thank the ticking of time
for such a lovely rhythm;
time has no ears,
no language.

coffee has no lips;
it can't be kissed,

sunshine heats my voice
and leaves it alone every night.
it never will receive,
never listen.

sandy shores have no sense -
their waves crash on the music I send them.
no matter how many songs,
beaches break them,
again and again.

well,
I've too much awe to hold in -
so I'm building a place
for it all to land:

ever noticed the sea
and its bitter, pretty scent?

its exhausted, foaming head
seeming to seek rest?

I'll write a pillow
for each wave.

my bliss is for breaking,
again and again.