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For Williem De Kooning
Their ideas over lap
Forget from whence…
They are and they know they are …but…
As do ideas toss-and-turn
And waves create: line-on-the-sand
Tomorrow they draw them flat again
And remould for another day
The sun warms the seas crust
The men on their boats toss
The nest and dream pass-in-hope
The work is bounty; but who knows why
The men come every day
The shapes stayed the same
The style as the sea on whatever day
The moon this silent teacher
Moves the sand by the seas roll
Once the idea went but from where did it grow?
Did just come from the root up
Or did the conscience steal some light
And still the mode remained
Until the passing waves passed over
As the erosion did
This once green field taken the oiled the life –inwardly he saw
And re-laid: re made until his sea moved no more.
As memories rock erodes into the sea, the sea the sea…
Until the grains reform on the shore to defeat sense.
copyright 2014
Jonathan
Beale |
