Point Conception

Something in this landscape of birthing 
before it collides that swells in us waves 
sweating their chaotic cadences consuming 
accumulated testimonies; the secret tensions
transformed from confrontations into love 
for this headland of discarded inhibitions 
and primal screams.

Here, the world confesses itself. We are 
its echo, chorus, its refrain, borne by private 
confessions of unrest to seethe with the sea 
between our thighs with hope like steel 
piercing our hearts.