My brother's bones rattled well in a tumbling bag of gelatin to find gravitational rest, to settle into a bloody heap. Reverie Men barked nonsense on Lunar hills, deaf to the music of our moon. We Never knew the Sea As small travelers subject to heavy clouds, we silently sought the edge of our continent. We vaporized near breakwaters as our path met icebergs warming under quilts of ocean. Variegated grounds must meet to overlap clear, broken or tumbling firmament.
Titans graciously embrace as a father and mother do.
The colors of the land are in the clouds. Cloudy colors are outstretched over land. Our evening tide is lavender, mummy is the morning sky. I have yet to be among the clouds, I am yet to be devoured by umber peat. Under our empty sea an indigo world exists as a once familiar voice beyond recollection- and over trench, plateau, barrow of cloudy schist, on a tossing desert continuum resides a pacific mind, and in each ocean mind there are dreams of drying soil.