The touch of limestone coast between my toes,
the waft of soft poseidon through his hair
in salty spray parades as borogoves
reflect, build nests beside and under, where

along the clifftop prominence that beats
reverberating brutal vorpal swords
dissect the intersections of a breeze
left blowing sailors lost on stormy shores. 

Alone the press of silence here restores
the whimsy bled by uffish smarmy trees
that root inside nocturnal carnivores
as beachcombers seek shelter in the seas.

Long time the manxome foe apollo fought,
a beamish boy who stood awhile in thought.

© 2020 Joshua J. Smith