Watermarks from a Night Spring

Embers of a partially burned ocean In a box in a dank basement molting notes A weathered surfer slowly descends the creaking Worn stairs, dark swells yawning Fish eyed and barnacle knuckled he climbs Finds and opens the box, peers in, smells the pages Runs salted fingers over the raised words Rusting paper clips, chiseledContinue reading “Watermarks from a Night Spring”