Homeless Enlightenment – Curtis Eggleston

        On the beach Ipanema, a woman peddled roses, a pedicel snapped of its time lovelay the wind, landed petals awed, a red eye afloat on an indigo mind and you are no soft rose buoy, from the waves we never rise, we arrived here, strange, undeserving of the origin, ocean, he reaches up the land, even in recession grasps for you, speaking through the steady collapse of touch whispers erosion, and the jungled rock jutted from the sea like leviathan froze risen justifies her stay, waves break, froth slides, falls as the people chose shelter from truth come and go we sit here all day and lie all night long, hearing his consistency you plea to know yourself on his refrain, but you will die, break down, and he is all that wills and his conductor, her, the moon.
        We are meant for another place than here. We will not disintegrate, become. Blank ideas soothe some of us, but afterlife will strip us raw, and punishment bears those who flayed their time with false purpose. What to do then but sit and be the breath of the unique gift, my own set with the rhythm of tide never misses his beat, bare soles in sand, I attend to the granulate, through the touch of one foot of flesh I feel myself buried alive in love.