shot glass
Issue # 3 January 2011
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Tim Hawkins

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Leaning with arms crossed on the rusting old rails of the pier
as a lone white sail on a great blue sea
tacks out toward a sparkling horizon,
my longing trailing in its wake,

I feel the bow spray like a heart's desire
in the soul's old hollowed out space.
I feel something massive gathering itself;
I feel something break like the sea.

Why does the earth sway under my feet
when there are so many things left to be done?

Why now this vision, so crisp and so clear,
as finally just one more untimely departure?