24
The ocean.
Why does it do this wonderful thing to me?
Would it not be the same if I sat on the end
of my own woven carpet of boundless blue
dimension -
undulate,
and empty of intrusion?
And if a silk ripple stole me
and slid me stilly,
slowly
from hem to hem - then
Oceanworks!
Would I not feel them?
![]()
Atlantic Ocean
July 1984