epitaph (20210421)

dead thing under the pier
i would mourn your passing
if you would identify yourself
you resemble an alligator
(but if so, you are far from home)
or some small, desiccated
formerly scaled dinosaur
washed up on the beach
luring my dogs under
the boardwalk
to roll in you

you are missed
ancient, stinking friend
and we are not so much
separated by millions of years
of evolution
as we are by a length of leash
and two lungs full
of salt water

tides (20170831)

once more i want to stand
upon that beach
remove my shoes though you know
i hate the sand against my skin

but i want to stand at the edge
of the sea
my feet in the wet sand
the water swirling around my ankles

i will stand against
the pull of the water
as sand is drawn out to sea
and i sink feet first

i want to remain there
as moon toys with tide
ground down like sea glass
the ocean and sand polishing me

standing still
sinking into wet sand
until the sea is over my head
and my edges have been smoothed away

Poem 20150505

the sea looked like green glass
almost but not quite still
the sky looked like gray glass
with its smooth, motionless clouds
a handful of seagulls screamed
and the breeze
was almost nonexistent
the salt of the ocean
clung to the skin
and the stink of bait hung
a cloud of fish smells
and also clung to the skin
surfers paddled in the green water
waiting for the few, weak waves
and under the pier
seals waited for scraps
waited to break the lines
of the wrinkled brown men
hauling up fish too small to eat
though they put them in buckets of ice water