To Love Beyond the Sea

Swear that this, the latest time of need,
Has swept you clean of all your need for clothes
And every other counted hassle-thing
That simplifies your life but for your breath
And breathing whiles. You do not match the sun.
Your feet are natural and like the sand,
The lasting foot-impressions done by weight
And serious, alive, bright roses smelled
Like after-life’s left-hand-beseeching smoke
Of laughing hollers echoing throughout
All pasts and futures and all norths and souths.

This is all the decoration done
By willful, unforgiving playwrights’ eyes
To all the ever-shining, endless light
That holds us all inside our soonest shells
Of broke-out time and sea-surveyor’s glass
That sees the things not thought about in time
But through all time let out and on to pass.
I break the waves upon my shoulderblades
And love and feel to love beyond the sea.