Book, Boat, Bone (2003)

Here I am again
striding in the surf
& riding out to you
writing it all down
on an ossuary of foam.

You walked away:
"not here" is inscribed
on a pouty angel's ass,
taboo and tide

my voyaging silk
to absent tart islands
and their galling,
gorgeous milk.

Breviary, bestiary,
book in ocean thrown:
each wave I well here
is a vowel of the
sea's blue bone,

curving plash to hiss:
the motions of a
lover's tongue,
the first line last kiss.