J. A. DeGar
An urn pours forth,
Rain rendering waters like sand on sea
Of memories and merriment
Trickling a heartful tune
Like Harpies on an awakening.
It gives of itself—
Expecting no one to hear,
Exulting the listener.
An endless excursion
The people I pass know not where these ship’s sails voyage
Inbound, crucifixes shine through neon-nighted days
Black cats and mystery give the sound
Going and coming and going again
Splashing against echoed sands and beach blue clouds outbounding in