Southend-on-Sea

Estuary fisherman and what’s left of going to sea
A sage at the edge of the day
Short houses and large laughing as feet pound into stillness
Deciding upon a sweeter solace something smoother, completed with the brine of olives. Cockles and soft prawns defeating the distance of larger moments of precarity
Storming through with hail the size of tiny eggs
Ice nightingales turning their gaze to take along the horizon for an exchange of the spirit,
Melting through exercises in memory to find images quite different than what we first encountered.
Coleridge’s elderfish have shrunken to tiny worms leaving trails of their daily journeys farther towards the center channel of the Thames.

Bristling with the joy of a day unfolding into a grey that allows for small feet to shake the foundations of a daily routine
Mourning doves calling to tales that send us in directions we couldn’t have arrived at on our own.
The promise of a train ride along the edges of balance where history slips past
An unrelenting image of body becoming jar
Less wonderful than figs and more feathered than a summer snow.
The floor of the wood flooded with the seed of dandelion shocked of its color and petal state into wisps of some other matter
Turning possibilities that we have yet to fully embody in our understanding of ourselves and the world that surrounds us.