ashore

charles sprague pearce reading by the shore

she brought herself to this place

already knowing

the nonchalant pose

even the title of the book being read

~

last night

she had been reading poetry

and drinking wine

alone

in a small candle-shadowed apartment

drifting aimlessly

in that moment of then

the air moved slowly

through an open window

she could see

rain

falling

thick and golden

in the gaslight flare

~

in this moment of now

she is remembering

holding the rice paper umbrella's

lacquered stiffness

and forming

soft words with her eyes

sand and water

whispering

its coming and going

and she lies

still

as if washed ashore

tangled and overlooked

like so much seaweed

smooth

if you polish the rough edges off

the outside of my inside

does some of the surface smoothness

descend inside?

to be becoming

there are places of confluence

of intersection

placess of mutual support

and places

that slow growth

until we move past

and looking back

at each

as a waystation

a place

in which we were negotiating

our path

looking back

at each

as a place in which

our intentions

were forestalled

altered

modified

halted

or sent

in an entirely unexpected direction

we can see

these places

as layers

that have over time

settled beneath the surface

of our experiencing

perhaps still affecting

our trajectory

our path

we are what we were

to be becoming