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When one gets tired of writing
you and I
he turns to watchtowers
and return he will to that one of Lawton

which face resembles that of a hermit’s
saddened by you and I once summer souls
silhouettes sitting by the bay now merely ghosts
among layers of sunset scenes

stranded there


When one gets perplexed about
something and everything
he turns to watchtowers
and return he will to that one of Lawton

which hands point to the city
and the world around it,
which chimes say
“Ask everyone not me. Ask God

when the clock strikes twelve”


------
*************************************
crystal face I kiss
tongue tastes like sweet cold rain
I fall into pond




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by peterpaulino





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