ON THE SAND

On the cabin fevered sand
my poetry images
have a way to kiss love
goodbye and circle the wind
by a beach bum's
mirror of language
now your sailor eyes are closed
by the sea's running tide
but your lips are open
reminding me of Hart Crane
as a Beat's pad opens
for those lost at sea
holding up a metaphor's likeness
to the ray's wide sunshine
as a rain shower leads us
to reach out
when all of love' shadows
bury my Autumnal memory
from holding up worry beads
of my nana praying the rosary.