• Gary Hunter

Shoreline Poet - Oct. 15, 2022

I gather shells and stones

scrounge for bleached bones

driftwood seaweed

anything oddly beached


I guess I’m a shoreline poet

the washed up or ignored

I pick up and put on paper

imagine them in motion

the music their mouths made

their untold stories


the depths of humanity

diving deep into lives

I leave to other poets


though I see the

moon as an orphan

in the sea of the sky


and I’ll swim up to her

on those lonely nights

0 views

Recent Posts

See All

I drain the pool’s water with a pump that must be unplugged before it sucks air at the same time shedding lots of slippery ideas to hopefully leave a good one then it’s critical when filling the pool

it’s a dog nap afternoon but I’ll keep my eyes open for awhile follow thoughts that drag through windless leaves everything heat-stilled how can there be poetry without movement no clouds in a blue sk

God meet Amazon on the couch, with my fingers flipping through idols