journal-08/14/00

08/14/00

(unfinished)

(Otherwise) it's quiet and still,
the tide's come in--
water thrashes melodramatically
against the boulders that jut up
out of the earth.

It's almost dark, and I can hardly see
what I write.
But that's better--
better than having so many people around,
better than fools interrupting me
asking stupid questions,
ceasing my silence.

I can see weather moving in,
the waves speak of it,
rumbling and exploding like fireworks
against the shore.

Mosquitoes hover around me
like I am some sweet rare fruit
(and I am, aren't I!),
they suck the blood from my body,
urging me to leave my place--

This sanctuary of my mind,
easing my soul,
soothing my heartache.