Notebook Excerpt: Beach at Ostia

22 Jun

Who tries to write a poem

on the beach at Ostia?

As if the waves are not proof enough that forward movement transitions (always)

to floating back

As if the sand here hasn’t been made from rocks collapsing

into finer and finer versions of themselves over ten thousand years –

as if my half hour stanzas won’t get buried here, too.

(As if the language of heartbreak – the poetry of it, the tight collapsing phrases, the staccato moment of letting go – exists even through the disappearance of the shade.)

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