Long Trails of Cars Returning from the Beach

I saw the power
of the word in
legend. Cast
shadows & I hid
under, lasting,
crevices making
jetty markers
stretching out
to sea. An
infinite strip,
lengths landscaped
against a red
sun, might
in any case be
lusterous. The experience
of the citation,
I find myself
in, a book
popping up & getting
out, searches
for its last
exposure. You
get up. You
want to. The
day begins much
like any other,
the sky mists,
a pale obscurity
fogs, sustenance
consists, breaks
signs against
rocks. Support
mechanisms in which
dirt — field,
soft — is
sustained propping
up a checkerboard
of items, products
then, as if for
itself could be
a fashion of
holding back.
We gain nothing.
" For nothing is
disguised. "
Long trails of
cars returning
from the beach;
a congestion of
sand, fume,
desire.
Packed by the interest
that a particular
pollution will
give way to
some more sensible
sight. It continues,
the wire pops from
underneath the road,
the tunnel backs up
far into New Jersey.
An idea of green
that keeps
going. Excruciating
in the habiting
of a space you
can't move within,
defined specifically
with an intention
to give up use
for whatever length
of time can
be sustained.
Which means
preconceived —
this annoyance
that you get it
wrong that jerks
through us.
" Person makes coercion "
as if by force
a certainty can
be achieved.
These gaps jump
too far, a fetid
decay of smoldering
ideas stacked up
like dead newspapers
hoarded for a
conviction that
there was a
past, that
something previous,
prior to,
the day before the
day before, was
nonetheless at sometime
news , it's weather,
a movement of
press that
overtakes us,
in which we
are cradled.
I ask for this
memory — not
to think. Breaks
apart. Let's be
an order.
Sinks into — is it
only a folding? — —
with which enthusiasm
realizes several
glimpses. Motion
to make a glance.
An array of — — —
pass by — is
constantly for the
reaching. Makes
plain a hungering
for a place
within that
neighborliness
always just
outside our
own. A mutual
exclusion.
Standing at
the beach &
Peter allowing
the cameras
to snap.
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