So this is what it comes down to in the end: earth and sand
skimmed, trimmed, filleted from rocky bone, leaving only
solid unshakeable bottom, what doesn’t in the end give in
to the relentless hammer, whoosh, and haul -away of tides
but stands there saying Here I am here I stay, protestant
to the pin of its absolute collar, refusing to put of the sheen
on its clean- scoured surface, no mourn ng weeds in spite of loss
after loss- whole wedges of the continent, particles of the main
plum meting from one element to the other and no going back
to how things were once, but to go on ending and ending here.
What the sea does- coming, going- -is mole beneath the
seeming solid earth
and keep eating at it until it gives over at last its stony hold
on things
and another chunk comes tumbling. What’s strange is, after
thirty years.
I’ve never seen this happen, never been there at the pivotal
single moment
when these two Conditions, these major states of being
(solidity and flux
the rooted and the flowaway ruthless rootless heart of the
matter) meet and
mate for an instant in which sea-roar and land -groan Are (One
gigantic Sound
and then that jawing withdrawal, that collapse, that racing
after- so foam stones
churn of sand, swirl of seawrack become a wrecked mouth
bulging with one
loud clamourtongue, which the rock you stood on plunges
into, dumbing it.


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