life's aching jaw in
the morning . rice . the word is not
western just barely subtropical pushing
into the ocean . the old go to
leave their bones in the great storms .
a woman once built her kitchen on
top of the power towers & raised her young
the black lines carrying hot dry juice
running above the land over the heads
of the fishermen . i saw it by accident
one day. had to stop the truck & get out
the binoculars . later on i was to sleep
alongside a river whose stones
contained the smallest fossils .