Self-shelf, shell fish

My clam-side washed by

Moon tide, moon-clock

Dissolving a tale

Of ragged thread

Fabric of gut-pearl

Shell fish, sell-fish

Speared off the old block

Tick-tock of same knock

Shock-wave of taking stock…

New wave now spirals

Bristles, into here

Eye-open, more real

Motions-of-melancholy

Widened softly now

Sundial, leaf-dance

Horizon net embrace

And one word falls

Of spread-palm prayer

May all be free

Yes, each drop, each star.