I'm a pale intruder on an unknown beach My back to the water My feet in the sand Finding no recognition as each sign of life Invades the precision of this ageing land An abandoned flipper in a world of stone There's a man on the shoreline with a white parakeet Trying to make his bird go home With increasing continuity, endless space Gazes 'round the periphery not disheartened Wearing its most inexpressible face
My instinct is double as the waves roll by But my vision is halved In the foam in the green as The insects talk to the blazing sky
Wax in the ear Stitch in the side Wolves are feast for the blind Under and over The why and the wherefore Easy to sit back with time Driving discussions like cranes through the car park Setting them all in a line All interceding Not yet receding Misleading doubts In the mind
I'm a pale intruder on an unknown beach My back to the water My feet in the sand Needing no recognition as each sign of life Invades the precision of this ageing land