“I didn't set out to be a troublesome writer, but if that's what I've been, I am totally unrepentant.”

The tide covers, discovers, recovers, and always walks in the nude.

The tide weaves and unweaves, embraces and separates, is never the same and 
never another.

The tide, sculptor of forms that last as long as their surge.

persistent, flowing through fallen shadows,
excavating tunnels, drilling silences,
insisting, running under my pillow,

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There is an uncertain territory
between night and day.
It is neither light nor shadow:

I am not at the crest of the world.
                                                      The moment 
is not the stylite’s pillar,