Shinnecock Canal
“Grace to be born and live as variously as possible.” Frank O’Hara
It’s August in The Hampton’s.
Lime bright leaves breath.
Lush life oozes from tubes,
cloying candy, wet with sweat.
The Shinnecock and booze
flow thick and slow.
Grace, drunk on tidal phthalo
green, and ultramarine
in lavish strokes,
coaxes paint into patches.
All that jazz in the wind.
She streaks red floral screeds,
yellow flowers in a pot,
an open book on the window sill.
Little things that matter still
echo without a shell.