Wednesday, March 05, 2008

LITTLE MISS ON BIG SUR

From fifteen thousand feet,
the elegant
round of backlit morning dew,
thickening cloudy malaise,
masks ghost-whispering sandpipers at play
.
Their pecking wild call,
unheralded
against the craggy moors,
weather beaten by sun and sea,
mounting Dianna’s chariot
tucking noon beams
into ancient coves
mist and fate,
caught expressive, yet removed.

T’is the outside world,
a myth endured,
till
weekend trips eclipse
the cymbal crash of restless surf.
We are not amused,
and liken this change
-less paradise
to each small and supple bend of
my lover’s back
trampled underfoot
bewildered as a
pack of midday galloping rhinos
beach balls
bobbing,
toward undisturbed, forgetful sands.
@Nick Zegarac 2008 (all rights reserved).

3 Comments:

Blogger Masago said...

Cool!

6:35 PM  
Blogger J. Andrew Lockhart said...

wonderful work!
I miss you, Nick.

7:43 AM  
Blogger Rhiannon said...

"T'is the outside world a myth endured"..I love this and the photos are beautiful as always..

Blessings,

Rhiannon

2:41 PM  

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