The Sea at Night

The sea at 3:00 am
balances three yellow lamps
on the horizon
like balls at the edge
of a black pool table.

I watch from the upper room.
The lamps in the sea road
are signaling —
bring out your hopeless!
I will fire their hearts!

The velvety tips
of the blue spruce
at the foot of the driveway
are too busy washing the night air
to notice.

I fall asleep in Manzanita
and wake up in Mussel Shoals.

Charlemagne had his way
of making converts
at the tip of a sword.
The sea at night has its way too.

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