STATION TWO
II
From the blueing east
a rising silversmith sun
spills a path to our feet
hammering the ocean white hot
forge like heat kisses us
a wave hisses
a wave hisses
swallow shadow whispers
a crystal trill repeats
the sea is blank
the blanket of yesterday’s birds lifted and gone
an utterly empty page
Stations of the Peaked Hill Bars
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STATIONS OF THE PEAKED HILL BARS - STATION ONE
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STATION TWO
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STATION THREE
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STATION FOUR
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STATION FIVE
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STATION SIX
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STATION SEVEN
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STATION EIGHT
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STATION NINE
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STATION TEN
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STATION ELEVEN
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STATION TWELVE