Tilt

The cave of beasts
washed
flooded
sunset
beach
sand
Markings
etched in angular motions of smudgy waves
Some orbital
some chaotic
some starry-night
seasons pass
Times of instability stain the hands with grief
The longing
the hardship
the poverty
the begging
Trepidation exhilaration confusion frustration
Moon to moon
glowing across the surface
Offering hopes
offering dreams
offering treasures
That accent is not Valley nor Lebanese nor American
It's dynamic
An astronomical almanac of history
Young axis
A twenty three degree tilt.
With a point four at the end.

- Patti Friday, The Pirate Code



Patti Friday, Photojourno, reporting from inside 'The Art Dept.' at the international 'Embassy of Ideas'.