i’ve read that a person can be
an island. and for a time i wasn’t
sure what the meaning of that
was. now, in the dark green rainy
season of august, i think i know.
at least i believe i’ve begun to
develop shores of my own.
jagged and penetrating rocks,
and white froth to coat my feet.
out here on my own, with nothing
to see for thousands of miles.









