February 26, 2009...3:42 pm

Point Danger

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He went there to have it
exact. The broken jazz of gulls.
The rise of volcanic rock. Hungry
teeth hidden in the foam
they churn. To have it tangible.
To carry it inside and feel its raw drag
without limit. He went there to hear
the waves suck and slap at
the big basaltic boulders, saying
hustle hustle, saying I’ll do
the fighting for you
. That desperate
whisper sluicing new grooves.
He went there to finger the rift
between rock and ocean, recognising
the sweet peril rushing in.
He knew he should not trust
such music. That he should say no.
But he went there just the same.

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