As I reached the lip I stopped but my body kept curling around, winding towards the pit like a tree towards the sun.

PEBBLE WAKING

You uncoil your tongue and taste salt. A trail of your drool is sliding across the sand, cleaving a shallow vein in the beach. It snakes into the dunes, deepening its path so that reeds are uprooted, causing flurries of sand to burst in the air. As the vein deepens, it meets powdery rocks, which explode in puffs. Vein grows into gorge, and the landscape rumbles as its crust fractures. Soon, the valley is obscured in a throbbing cloud of dust. Then liquid begins to hiss at the bottom of the crevice. It ripples and rises. It soothes the fierce air, smoothing flyaway particles back to the ground.


PEBBLE HAS A DREAM

Ocean buttering the way
I hover below pulsing walls and ceilings
That hum soft industrious

over over over
there with the stream
slip
grip
and again


I am tomorrow soaring into light.