  "Smell the sea and feel the sky / Let your soul and spirit fly into the mystic" --Van Morrison The Mystic
Dawn in Topanga—last day. I stand at the edge of the property, an old chain link fence beyond which there’s just canyon and more canyon, slopes & folds enveloped in bright marine fog impossible gradations of slate, silver, white fuzzy Rothko-esque layers, the barest suggestion of Pacific fathoms beyond, below Sitting with pencil poised over paper I wish things would come through clear A fine line reveal itself The ocean appear, unambiguous I look down, tired of squinting A drop of coffee slops on my page like a Rorschach blot-- What do you see? What are you looking for?
3 Comments
Mary Carroll
8/9/2017 09:47:33 am
I try to remember your phrases, i.e..eye-rolling torpor, Persian essence. I admire your dedication to the run and the desert Topango Canyon. I miss our visits to Pasadena and San Marino, the Huntington. We still will visit San Francisco. I miss NYC. There are two families here at the Lake in Summertime. Keep writing and seeing. 11/14/2018 01:55:02 am
I love going to the beach, sitting at the edge of the water, contemplating life. I love to stare at the sky, watching the sunset pass by. Listening to the sound of the waves, as if it was talking to the sky to let the birds fly high. Sometimes I have tried writing my name in the sand, hoping it will remain there forever, but the sea washed it, so I tried again never surrender. Leave a Reply. |
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July 2018
All text and images, except where credited, are © Jenny Sheffer Stevens and The Regular Jenny, 2015-2019 -- All rights reserved.
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