Half blue day

Got the clouds on a string
(or do they have me)
I don’t know why
or where they’re going
 – what they so burdened dream
in gathering swell, in trailing dissolution
thin hand raised against the sun
where they end and I begin
a perturbation on the face
in the disavowal of their exhalations
gone repletely smoothly
only that 
in the fleet urgence of our conspiracy
their  hesitant pull
so easily lifts

By the enclosing sea

At the beach we fall like Carthage
Tasting salt
In the dunes butterflies grace
Small stars on the bramble bush
Bright as copper burning
There is no one here but dreams of wanderers
Worn as sea glass
In twisted nubs that fire never made
Green and agate against your lips
A taste like mermaid skin, you say
I say, as if
For curling winds
We bow our heads
Your face big as the sea-lorn moon
Pocked with hollow frowns
A garland temple on your brow
Pollen on your breath
All fell down
Two mouths make butterflies, of course
Flying away
In utter blue
To wind-torn speechlessness