autotelic, autistic, assonance-hole©.


i am floating in the ripples of neruda
lost in backwash and foam
never as able to turn a phrase
as the maestro
but, inspired by the many glimpses
of surf, of shore, of nude delight
like salmon entering home stream
enthused and energetic, rushing headlong
a glimmer, a simile, a metaphor
raise a glass by the shoreline
watch the sunset through merlot mists
sometimes the greatest joy in life is
simple as the breath
easy as standing still
beautiful as the realization that
poetry is not about what was
or is or may or shall be
poetry is about the moment called ‘now’
crystallized into word
an amber-encased reality
strung upon the life line
ah, pablo, you sly and glorious thing!