The Book of Lancelot
Spicer on Lancelot
Walking on the beach and you both bear the sound the ocean makes.
The sailors at Tarawa, Java, burning oil at their backs
Swimming for dear life.
You say, and he says and meaningless says the beach's ocean
Grail at point 029.
In the slick of the thing music
Waves brushing past the beach as if they wanted to be human
The sailors screaming.
Walking on the beach, fondly or not fondly, they hear the sound the
Five Six Seven