At one point, the man found himself
Walking against the wind in a suit and tie,
The sand sticking to his socks
And filling his shoes.
Weighted, he approached the water.
Standing still, the tide swirled up
To his ankles before he could run backwards,
To escape capture.
Gasping, he sat down and unlaced
Each shoe and rubbed his toes.
He stood with his hair blowing,
While he undid his pants.
The wind caught his jacket
And blew it into the air as
He drew his arm from the sleeve.
His shirt unraveled.
He pulled down his underwear
And stepped naked onto the hard sand.
Everything he came with went
Bouncing down the beach.
He gathered driftwood in the dunes.
He wedged wood together,
Tucking large under small,
Locking up a framework.
The sun warmed the sand.
The wind lay down with the lamb.
The man crawled naked into the
House and dreamed.
Catalina
© Wavepoint Productions 2008
Cathleen and Chris!
“For is not music a language? And of what is it the language? Is it not the language of the dream world, and the world beyond thought?”
Robertson Davies, The Lyre of Orpheus
Walking against the wind in a suit and tie,
The sand sticking to his socks
And filling his shoes.
Weighted, he approached the water.
Standing still, the tide swirled up
To his ankles before he could run backwards,
To escape capture.
Gasping, he sat down and unlaced
Each shoe and rubbed his toes.
He stood with his hair blowing,
While he undid his pants.
The wind caught his jacket
And blew it into the air as
He drew his arm from the sleeve.
His shirt unraveled.
He pulled down his underwear
And stepped naked onto the hard sand.
Everything he came with went
Bouncing down the beach.
He gathered driftwood in the dunes.
He wedged wood together,
Tucking large under small,
Locking up a framework.
The sun warmed the sand.
The wind lay down with the lamb.
The man crawled naked into the
House and dreamed.
Catalina
© Wavepoint Productions 2008
Cathleen and Chris!
“For is not music a language? And of what is it the language? Is it not the language of the dream world, and the world beyond thought?”
Robertson Davies, The Lyre of Orpheus
