The Voice
The sea rolls,
an echo of thunder.
Too loud not to notice,
but quiet enough
to not understand.
March 10, 2003
Coranado Beach, San Diego, CA
Baited
In truth, he will lead
on to destruction if
I wander from the truth.
A hook embedded
should I bite, drawn
along a rocky path,
strewn bloodily along.
I cringe at the sight
of what I’ll never see,
but only feel.
March 10, 2003
Coranado Beach, San Diego, CA
Take it in
The palm trees breeze
across the oceanic thoroughfare.
Fingers strum and key,
providing the serendipitous
theme for the day.
Taking it in.
March 9, 2003
Pacific Beach, San Diego, CA
There she goes
Where’d she go?
The girl I knew.
She walked away,
into a new life.
When last I looked,
she spoke of here.
Of living away from
where we began.
What lies before me
is just the question
of why the waves
never say goodbye.
March 9, 2003
Pacific Beach, San Diego, CA
Inertia
Time passes…
And before long, I’m old.
People march by, and I
Remain, sitting here
On the green grass,
Always safer than the
Sand, rock, or cement.
These never die,
But the green will brown.
Time to move on
March 9, 2003
Pacific Beach, San Diego, CA
Unwelcome Diversion
Wings
span across my horizon.
A trip
I never take is thrown
my way
as they traverse the sky.
My face
sorrily angry at the
intrusion
of my solitude. A tear
would rise
if I weren’t dry,
afraid
to fall, scared to succeed.
March 9, 2003
Pacific Beach, San Diego, CA
