Fools Fight Waves / Ghost Poem

Fools fight waves with force
But aren’t we all fools

We’ve all had shit on our hands
Dirt in our teeth, our stomachs
This life is more than we can ever know

So big, so small
What is this skin?
What are these equations?

Were fences the first of too many bad ideas over too much time?

One thought doesn’t make anything any thing?
And I will not go
And we lived through all the typos
We kept living through all the typos

We are so many, every one
Boxes, circles, piles, fences

Cords, calls, stations, statements

Rivers loom large, again
Train tracks, unasked for gifts, and nouns and verbs conspiring in every corner

Shrouds are made for wrapping
Perspective, another still

Still, stiller, still
Call it what

Location:Glen Allen Dr,Baltimore,United States