I was born on hospital sheets on Jackson Street between two bends in the Brazos. I don’t remember what

I first saw beyond crimson estuary that …

I wonder what it is— the sorbet colors of sunsets, dawn’s warm cheek on her surface, her vastness rocking eternally from tranquility to …

he said. but i am about as attainable as horizon—no, as ocean rushing toward you only to slink away. i know this, somehow, is worse.

you want to drink …

stuck to low tide ribs— the limpet— a little oil, a palm of embers

        Where for once,        we don’t chase daylight— daylight chases us,        smears her honey hands across         our sun-starved backs …