East Coaster


All of this becomes

so necessary,

every imperfection

and contradiction.

All the sames

slip into the place,

seamlessly blending in

to a dull horizon.

There used to be a chair

out by the old boathouse.

You could sit

and watch the morning come.


it would look like you were there,

but as I got closer,

the chair would be empty.

These days,

I lament the dawn

and curse the evenings,

when darkness comes.

Somewhere in my mind

it occurs to me

that I am getting thin,

like a place worn over time.

The chair by the water

is gone,

and the boathouse

collapsed in a storm.

The pier

stands long abandoned

and nobody goes there


But, the daylight

still breaks over the bay,

the cold Atlantic calling out

the names of my ancestors.

A slash of red light,

wounds the sky,

bleeding out

a dying darkness.

All things in their time.


and you,

and our memories.

I can hear the waves,

even though

the place that I sit now,

is two thousand miles

from the ocean.

Everything is necessary.

Just because we don’t see it,

doesn’t mean there is no purpose.

We’re creatures

in a temporary place,

watching the weather change.



HG – 2022

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