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
Tag: water
conformation (20181011)
you rise out of water
majestic
gray
as if breaking not
only the clear surface
but also erupting from
the riverbed
but you have fallen
from some greater height
propelled by the very water
you petulantly divide
cling to the earth
refuse to let go
resist all forward movement
the water will tear you down
the river will carve you up
i race past you
on the surface
like a miniature cloud in a sky
weightless
casting my weightless shadow
water will take me
and i will go
i spin as i pass you
declaring my verdancy
even as i change
even as you refuse to
gripping the mud
with your fingers
curled into claws
but the water will tear you down
the river will carve you up
you will be moved
the quiet of water (20171031)
i bury myself in beach sand
begging the tide to come in
this is cleaner than a funeral
no open grave for grieving
relatives to fall into
not need to rent a backhoe
no need for mourners at all
the sea provides the tears
the waves–sobs
the wind–sighs of loneliness
the gulls–shrieks and laughter
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
hand washing (20170628)
i watched the water
take the soap
in a small spiral
down the drain
it carried the dirt of the day
thicker than water (20170506)
you’re a trickle
through my bloodstream
like a drop of oil
suspended in a bucket
of rusty water
the plasma is so heavy
you can’t rise
but you’re too buoyant
to sink properly
tidal pull (20170429)
the ocean lives
in an empty
soup can
in the field
behind my house
i once found
a conch shell
bleached white
in that field
the ocean lived
there, too
the ocean lives
in my heart
salty tributaries
find their ways
to fingers, ears
the ducts of my eyes
you are too small
to be a moon
yet your song
pulls on the ocean
shaping it
before it flattens out
once more
——
It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 29
Check out these sites:
miniature waterfall and what it said (20170401)
sun bounces white
a horizontal bar
across the falling water
no cascade no foam
no churning among the pebbles
yet the water speaks for the light
understand how voices once
were heard proceeding forth
from burning bushes which
did not become ash
but don’t pretend
to understand
the voices
——
It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Check out these sites:
river and hunger (20170321)
i am sewn into a beaver pelt
and set adrift in the river
i hear the rocks split the water
though only darkness feeds my
starving sense of sight’s appetite
i feel them drag along my back
these jagged river stones
not yet worn down, splitting the water
though only darkness feeds my
starving sense of sight’s appetite
no longer enough air to breathe
the stench of game hide and water fills my lungs
bruised, i flail, splitting the water
though finally darkness satiates my
starving sense of sight’s appetite
——
sinking (20170210)
we swim in dark waters
under storm-black skies
the sound of waves
disguising the direction
of land
sightless
we grasp buoys and anchors
with our hands
unable to discern them
from one another
under the water
there is no sky
and you must sink
to stand again
this is the way
this is the way
this is the way
Words and Feathers 