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A/am/ams – tha ancient wanderer – passes by. A walks along e shore. A listens to e voice. Every time a rolls e over, e has a different face.

 

 

 

 

When a met e, tha sgith was blue.

 

 

Æ staggered through tha heathaze, on tha ridge of tha mountains. An ere a drochte. A lay gaspin in tha trickle of water over mossy rocks. E lay flat, eyen in tha shade of an outcrop, an e chest burnin on.

 

 

This shoreline goes on forever. Round pebbles turned to hot sand, an a black cuillin now grey, roughly pounded out on tha beach, turnin over an over in a surf... an a liftin e up, turnin, keerlin, light in tha salty sea.

 

 

Tha beach twists an curves, down an down forever.

 

 

When a flecked e, athun, tha mountains wheeled around, hot white

quartzite shit spinnin into nawhere, inta silver an iv’ry.

 

 

Dark crossin inta day, an æ perchin on concrete ruins, sippin black water, an a walkin out wi e beside tha sea, tha glas sea, tha absent sea, tha one glassy sea, higher then lower, forever.

 

Æms there passing it all by — tha sea on tha left, tha whorl on tha right. Tha sgith is an oister shell, an e is lookin aweg, but e yet sees tha orange sun is reflectin on ams face. An see – a has na shadow.

 

 

Fuckin hard to say what happened athun. E is gan awhile, an e icoman back in, salty an still on a ridge of tha sea, layin on rumours of rain. An a reels e on tha rocks, an it is a song, reelin jus there, in tha fish an blood reek an tha sharp slykees.

 

 

Annow, laid side by side, sand an wrack in æ hair – what happened here?