Shell Full Of Stones

Munificence is of the Sea
which you cannot explain, nor do,

Because it is too Big.

At first, seem quiet, the
continents dragging themselves along, their immense

Books of Wounds
like black stones ribboned in white

doodling on their own bandaged pages.

At first, a gray doubt. Like a dove, almost
not there; like an

elephant’s eyelid
opened

already, it comes.