the tidal forest is the whole
present tense—the first

winter full
moon in october

gossamer overcast
the wind catches—one

tree & then the next—
a tide that reaches the sky—

a desire path—a split
infinitive—intertidal fricative


form is content—content is form—the only commandment
but there is no shape to days

the long border of an evening intertidal
never resolves itself never dissolves

never solves for any variable—
it is simply stretched beyond recognition

or usefulness—a king of nothing
& nowhere—but if we want

process not product—which we do—then
it will be evening all season & we will stretch into it


the whelked & jinxed intertidal
furbelows seaweed—

a boat neaped—you’ve got to be
kidding me           I say five times a day

waved like the enridged sea—
if I could take the sound of you into

my mouth           I would
work double tides—

on the impossibility of measuring the coastline
shorter stretches of evening—a quarantine


wrackline palimpsest
I am so pure I am a bore

when dusk shed its x
& waved across both

the sea & middle
english & will arrive today

precisely at 5:00 PM
& have the least

difference between high
& low & sea & sky & light