I’m a night man on the beach
being chased by the tide.
I gathered up some wood
and began to make a fire.
As the waves came in sevens,
one, two, and three.
The pull of the moon
bringing in the sea.
I need money time and shelter,
to write another while.
Returning to the fire to rearrange my pile.
Rearranging my pile.
Chose someone to talk to
feeling foolish by the heat.
Described an equation
of farm tools, land, and speed.
My choices were all simple,
keep living off the bike
or find a place for a year or more
and settle down to write.
I need money time and shelter,
to write another while.
Returning to the fire to rearrange my pile.
Rearranging my pile.
The bones finished burning.
The sea lulled me to sleep.
A storm was coming
so I started heading east …