Thursday, November 03, 2016


Nickay3111, "Lincoln City Tidepools, Oregon," 2014

I crouch down at the edge of the brine-bower,
hold still as I can, watch as those small jeweled
things go about their business. I’m ignorant of
their names, how their lives entwine, although
the shape of their scour is familiar. But it’s no
fugitive tinaja, eggs locked up tight til the rains
come. This is where moon and sun swell every
belly, pull tangleweed and sea lettuce into the
hole where crabs no bigger than my thumbnail
gather for salad and sex. At this far edge of the
West, the pulse beneath my skin is also a tide;
here, where Poseidon-by-other-names watches
his billion sea-foam children, and watches me.

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