on a woven plastic recliner
in the garbage-strewn sand
as dawn reaches across the sea
with icy fingers of peach and violet
that my phone cant capture
not only because its broken
after seven years of coercion

i am surrounded by beach dogs
wagging tails and paws searching
me for snacks and company which
i surrender as i pat and scratch many
ears and necks and sleek black faces
and nuzzles of muzzles into my arms
they bury me in a serious welcome

the poet was blind so
hes brushed by the rosy fingers
hes drinking the wine-dark sea
the sunrise is a sweet dream
a momentary pouring out
onto me and all of these excited dogs
its shocking hot pink illusion


//

altogether yes
(he) Critias was saying
(since)(you are) (by you)(look you) and (he) is
both a lover of wisdom and
as it seems both to others and to (it)(him)self
altogether poetical


καὶ πάνυ γε
ἔφη ὁ Κριτίας
ἐπεί τοι καὶ ἔστιν
φιλόσοφός τε καί
ὡς δοκεῖ ἄλλοις τε καὶ ἑαυτῷ
πάνυ ποιητικός

154ε