Thursday, September 9, 2010
The way a small boy cries to let his older brother and his friends know they've gone too far - that waa, moving into a louder wail to show a parent that he's been hurt, and then the way he sits alone, despondently, regretfully wishing that he had been more of a man, able to withstand the pain and teasing better, that he had been born older, and not the little brother, the baby.
The sky is a spectrum, ranging from white blue at the horizon to baby at the cloudline, directly above and back the other way.
Daniel Adler thinks the the sea roils like green wine from the cask. A tender tendril of sand.