Video Project

I filmed a moan, a lighthouse horn.
It bumped between my trees. Limp smoke
was filtered by the fingerprints
of trees, olive and orange, its path
like driving bars of soap inside an artery.

The blades of grass were undertow,
so many fluid jellyfish
bound by the wind and winding waves.
I wanted to squelch them underfoot
as being stung was decreed fate.



[July 2009]

I hate the last line. I've tried a dozen variants and nothing sounds right.