this is a song without a melody;
I prefer to leave my words unburdened,
verbs and tenses broken like foamy waves,
creating music of the rise and fall
and the crash.
this is a song for the barefoot,
the undaunted neighborhood
kids, the haunted house should-
have-stayed-at-home tomb-raiders,
the Darth Vader slayers and sooth-sayers,
your unfulfillable childhood dreams
splash in the foam of the retreating tide of these syllables,
I know because I find mine slipping between the sand hills
and under my feet's ocean vigil, till they finally scuttle their claws
across the bottom of the sea,
and grow bald
and get cold
and read paper magazines.