Loneliness Can Be, Recycled, a Transparent Kind of

Solidification that Turned to Void

Passing Through Fate, Called Out Silently

On the Receding Shores of Time

There are Those in the World, Bound to Understand Your Words

one of these, left on a beach, can cause a bigger effect than we’re able to imagine, NOT my photograph…

As Well as that Flowing Memory from Your Heart

Like the Arch that Was Tossed Out

Describing its Own Existence Lightly

That No Longer Visible Tracks

That, was the Look from Being Abandoned, Not Used to

The Passions

and this, would be the dominoes effect from that very first bottle being discarded on the beaches…NOT my photograph…

Or the Excessive Hugs, the Freedom and Beliefs

Hidden from the Light

In the Endlessness of Meditation

Along with the Multiple Selves Which Got Lost

And Yet, Some of the Words Aged

On the Journey

They’d Become, Bloated with Stories

And Because of the Sophistication

The Sorrows

a beach, full of TRASH, is that what you want to see???  Not my photograph still…

Were All Forgot

Into a Time Between Dreams and that Scent of Naïve

The Earth Still Existed Stubbornly

Still Sang with Its Wound

In the Exchanges of Light & Darkness

Still Awakened and Fallen Asleep, in the Loud Cacophony

The Days Distant, and, Those Who’d Come and Gone

Had Finally, Vanished

So, the poet is writing this from the perspectives of those bottle discarded after people finished drinking from it, and, how we so carelessly, toss things away, and these materials can actually be recycled and reused, to create LESS disposable garbage…