Tethered kelp shakes
angry algal fists
at boy racer waves
reaching for shore.
Slow-time tides beat
lunar tattoos.
Oil black mackerel
taunt the shore bound;
Slick and shifting.
Wind whips; lips chapped;
horse-tail salt slaps.
Breathe in brine.
Rockall Mugs | Will… on It’s Pissing Down On… | |
Peak 3 (Stillborn) |… on Alderley Edge | |
erroneouschoices on Brittle (for Greg) | |
hana on Succotash | |
Will on Nairn |
Recent Comments