Fanore Coast

​Five of the hundred and fourteen, measured in kilometers

Spent thinking in the damp, busy silence

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There are crosshatched branches where the creek would bend

And the river did not shift the way I thought it would

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I hear plants caught in crossfires of cold

Underneath sage colored sand

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Realizing that I forgot to track my paces,

To busy thinking of where to, where to

I walk in tandem with the rush of leaves and water

A sound I didn't know meant so much

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A field guide to rust, blueberries, and doors

Tire tracks, chopped wood. Both red.

A wall of ivory, a yellow door, gate to match

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The mist outweighed the fog

Fanore Coast, 2019

14” x 10”

Ink, Tape, Glue, Transparency Paper, and Kozo Paper