“A child stands like a priest under his father’s sky. Why do you fate me to fail you?”

a tiny woodstove
and
a toilet
one has to
pump by hand
and
a waterline
that is just
right up there
at eye-line
and
if you keep
looking up
more often than not
you see
perhaps not the
erotic lithe body
of ocean but
raindrops
which really are
each and all
erotic
and lithe
and
ocean

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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