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voyages - harold blumenfeld lyrics

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above the fresh ruffles of the surf
bright striped urchins flay each other with sand
they have contrived a conquest for sh*ll shucks
and their fingers crumble fragments of baked weed
gaily digging and scattering

and in answer to their treble interjections
the sun beats lightning on the waves
the waves fold thunder on the sand;
and could they hear me i would tell them:
o brilliant kids, frisk with your dog
fondle your sh*lls and sticks, bleached
by time and the elements; but there is a line
you must not cross nor ever trust beyond it
spry cordage of your bodies to caresses
too lichen*faithful from too wide a breast
the bottom of the sea is cruel

- harold blumenfeld lyrics

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