So I made a lighthouse, a kind of short and stumpy one on tiny, rocky island located at the far eastern edge of the region. I see why there are so many of these in virtuality, as making one is really just pulling cylinders out of each other and tapping on them a little bit. Still, I like the glow effect from the light and such a structure seems kind of necessary in a waterworld like mine.        

There is another process shaping these islands
where you have to begin with a stretch (as in
that’s a stretch), and New England was once
much bigger, the tropics had much more water,
but the water doesn’t sunder the land from itself,
is stormless and without any power. All it can do
is hug these islands and coasts and sometimes
change color as it listens only to this other
thing at work, arranging and arranging,
all the while building theories of synecdoche
for dock, breaker, beach that seem to split the shore.
That breeze that fills your sail and carries you.
Those docks where the other boats moor.
These sentences from deep inside the other
thing that carry you past the shore.

traffic spike taken seaward. don’t sail into the wind with sharp spikes.
always at an angle. sailboats have the truth of how always things work.

what can you hit head-on?
what would you want to?

my sailboat is small, but it has a nice buffet. the steam trays
are always at a proper temperature for food to be kept safe and edible.

ahoy! the skippers in the passing boats say to me.
i just learned how to shout, so i owe response to a lot of you good skippers.

don’t take my silence personally
because it was just ignorance in me, a thing about usability.

it’s easy to shout once you know how to do it,
just like all things intuitive where clear instructions are tantamount.

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