Art and its Litter

Seas bloated with the

slick of winter have

made flightless the

cold huddle of gail and gull

that wades through wet sands

stalking shells

of the last hungry grains.

Of mist greyed ?

seas clenched

waves that wound

that sharpened rip

and the curved slice

tip of that breaking wood

amid the spires

that salt that rain clings

like these tides maul.

What can gasp shingle-rap

or seaweeded litter crack

can chew crust of plastic

marauding the shore

that crave the rotting wake

or want strewn upon the page

all spill rebuke.

How sapping dunes of the

tail of the wrenching brute

have these shifting stilled

binds of the sea

may drag the anchor

that may ditch the stack

to pile the rancour that litter Art

that stages the connivance

without a part