Cans and shells are both abandoned when no longer useful.
One, when empty (by man). One, when full (by glob-footed organisms).
Glob-footed organisms cannot live inside aluminum cans.
Shells do not litter the streets of major cities.
Broken shells can mulch flower beds.
Crushed cans cannot be used as vases.
Neither makes a tasteful ashtray.
Neither illustrates prayers or sells in tourist shops.
Neither is likely to be gilded, to impress ladies at a luncheon party, or to evoke true love.
Either might evoke memories of an ex.
Neither can nor shell should be clutched too tightly to the bosom.
Neither is an apt metaphor for the muse. Neither inspires odes. O cracked bit of shell O crushed aluminum can
And so forth.
The shell, broken, reveals a lustrous encapsulation of roseate dawn. It is pleasing to the thumb.
The can, crushed, is illegible. It’s crinkled lip flashes in the sun like a razor.
More sea trash (read bones, candy wrappers, a winnowing basket here).
Summer is upon us! It’s time to feature, as promised in my sensationally popular post FASHION, my swim-suit.
In my post Odalisques & the Ocean I described the sea as teeming with crepuscular carnage:
(Hail the living ocean the wreckage of shore! The dark things that sift through the muck of its floor. The fish, angels of numbness, glittering like jewels in a crypt. The eels and spiny things, glass-eyed, lidless conglomerations of hideousness both repellent and fascinating.)
Ages ago I happened upon the perfect swim-suit for braving the high seas. My very fashionable swim-suit is a super-hot metallic with jewels and gilding strategically placed to accentuate my odalisquan curves:
I love my swim-suit! I always stand-out at the beach, and best of all, I feel confident and secure, prepared for anything the sea might spit at me! I always wear a bathing cap to protect my head in case of unforeseen collisions with crashing rocks. This one has goggles built in so when I’m underwater I can open my eyes to defend myself. I swim with a sword, as well as my pen, which appears to deter ships, even when I’m drowning.
If hawk is planning a visit, I could stab us a fish!
[ ] Odalisque.
click to enlarge.
(ghosts carry blessings & strange dreams around sharp corners through cracks in the sill.)
(moonlight turns the turn of the stair into an ascension.)
(ghosts carry blessings and strange dreams in their open palms.)
they are exquisitely delicate
(tangles of dust pins string hair.)