THE PIER AT DUSK 1979
published in: STOP LYING | New York 1982
booklet edited by The Middle of Silence Gallery

At the waterfront,
the sun melts the wind
into memories. They
lay in a puddle,
rippling.
I try to find one
image, but the
sky and tide
engulf.
Incoherently they
mummur, “I know
not who I am,” or
“I do not care," and
oddly enough,
"Do not despair!”

At the waterfront,
the sun melts the wind
into memories. They
lay in a puddle,
rippling.

         At the waterfront, gray skies collapse
         into puddles, memories scald, dreams
         scream and gossip and ask why?
         I seem to know something.

         What is it?- a second on flame?

         No- it’s only that the sun
         will be called by its first name,
         death introduced to disdain
         and tomorrows involve less pain!

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