(no subject)

The garden of shells on the beach you see
Rests on yesterday's garden of shells.
It would go down so to antiquity
If antiquity's hadn't gone somewhere else.

You know about yesterday seen or no.
You know how the beach will be all down the bay.
You know all the beaches, not just so,
But enough, and the beaches of yesterday.

You color by number whole cosmoses in,
Though some of your colors lap over the lines.
There's portraits by you of how things begin.
Of their ending you've ventured a thousand designs.

This picture is best: those clouds, these waves.
Your latest and greatest you keep nearby.
But the fadeds and partials crowd the caves
That contain many twins to this singular sky.

Close your eyes and the colors stay
Even as lines blur and shiver away.
Canvases merge into tunnels of time,
Tunnels that curl ever in as they climb.