Friday, January 29, 2010

2 of N of X





this, when the tide's rolling in
and the late afternoon sun's rays are slanted;
shades of amber-honey; a glaze--

translucent-gold oozed over a deep magenta sky
along with the red ember-glow setting light
to the tall clay cliffs up ahead facing west:

gulley-gouged, ravine-scored along their entire aging face;
with touches of rouge and rose and raw salmon blush
bounced-off the underbellies of gathered clouds at the horizon

in streaks and in clumps and in random masses--
smoke-puff soft and cotton-ball light;
they've always congregated here: each afternoon,

at this time of year, reinventing this glorious sight
time and again;


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