Poems, essays, and other writings by eric bleys

The Sun of the Seashore

By the sun of the seashore

I saw infinite beaches

That played the fine games of sand

With numbers growing older

Than the eternal sounds forever.

As with voices in the morning rain

And with lightness in the summer flowers

I count ten thousands daisies

That turn quickly into nothing

While moving slowly into everything.

In Thoughts Unaltered

Painted Snow