three deep, three out
the Mother, Myself & the Child,
waves on the shore, chastisements:
Cover up the seaweed, its rotting well
& damn near contaminating us!
We could steer us over the ocean
dingy with the tide, next day caressing,
never to rely upon to sustain in drift
away from sand-cluttered shores,
from “motherhood”, “fatherhood”
& workaday bores on the radio:
Never could fathom what to be above!
Life goes on in endless abound
& naturally we love it with all our Faust
(how to love is a tricky dimension
best not to unfurl) ~
Child & Mother hang where you are still
& from your nose let the raindrops jewel
in dripping harmony
with the dutiful & untimed rock of jelly surface
Then in all good faith for life the force
we may hold our head up high
(the sands of time have settled on the seabed).
Life, yes . . .
How to steer us over the ocean,
how you started as I faltered.
Life ~ yes!
© 2005 Pete Gioconda & Black Cat Communications
All rights reserved