One of the oldest poems on the blog by a long stretch. This would go back to 1992, I think. It was possibly the first time I sat down to write a poem and immediately felt that what I wrote had worked. Because of it, I ended up writing a stack of four notebooks full of bad poetry. I still like this one, though.
Liquid light on high Shine bright Moon beam's cloud The stormy death Comes to a monumental (yet painful) end Breaks on the shore- Line brings small Crustaceans to their death Little clams and Crabs can not help To die Call it inevitable