The line is a meditation of course, it’s the process of sifting, picking and laying that’s the thing, with stones massaging my bare feet and palms, elevated on the bank, back-baked by the sun, ruffled and caressed by the never ending breezes, and the endless hiss and stone sucking bass breath of the waves that eat at the waters edge: Oscillating up-beach/down-beach through ebb and flood, pulled by the mighty sun and moon. My thoughts return to Roger, who passed not long since, a great man a mentor, an understander of all this sparse beauty, this infinity of moments. This line is my tribute to him, with heart felt thanks…


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