Sediments of Santa Monica

　　by Brenda Hillman

　　 A left margin watches the sea floor approach

　　 It takes 30 million years

　　 It is the first lover

　　 More saints for Augustine's mother

　　 A girl in red shorts shakes Kafka's

　　 The Trial free of some sand

　　 A left margin watches the watcher from Dover

　　 After the twentieth century these cliffs

　　 Looked like ribbons on braids or dreads

　　 A dream had come right over

　　 With a sort of severe leakage

　　 Ah love let us be true to one another

　　 Went down to the ferris wheel

　　 God's Rolodex

　　 There were neon spikes around everyone

　　 Like the Virgin's spikes

　　 Old punk's mohawk Evidence of inner fire

　　 Rode throwing words off Red current Light swearing

　　 Ah love The century

　　 Had become a little drippy at the end

　　 We're still growing but the stitches hurt Let us be

　　 True to one another for the world

　　 Easy on the myths now

　　 Make it up Sleep well

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