The Only Constant

Once up the short and rocky beach 
we slipped and scented across the  cold stone field 
to the seal cairn on the grey marsh side.
Someone considered that proper respect,
due an eyeless corpse spray-painted orange
with the date of death or finding.
Contrast this to the southern shores:
The dolphin's momentary arch, liquid in the sun,
the flat moon shells' pale spirals,
and the endless competent patrols of pelicans
up and down the endless reach.
But remember that there too the dolphins and the tortoises
may roll onto the sand, lifeless, 
fit for only sad remark and final tally,
and consider today's fine wash 
of blue and yellow northern surf
in which the young dog bathed, ebullient.
Life and death change places;
places are changed by death and life.
The only constant is the sea.
The only constant is the sea.
The only constant is the sea.

May 31 2011

Driving Through the Rapture

Sadly, it was apparently not.
In fact, against high heaven's wall, 
the contrails all had seemed to be descending,
suggesting a falling trend.
But though we laughed to think of saved ones rising,
we could not help envisioning how the hopeful spent the day
in prayer, in goodbyes,
in anxious countings down,
in the strangest of possible glad anticipations,
to think that this bright day might be the last;
and when the hour had passed
and we were still just driving,
did we not yield one most private sigh to think
the world no more divine than yesterday,
or that we were left behind?

May 22 2011

A Million Hands

A million hands have opened in the yard
along the lines of branches
to show what they were holding as they grew;
opened as if finishing their prayer,
and what they hold is answer
to the same one prayed by you.

May 18 2011

Revisions

1. Today I will not require the spoons to match.

2. It is completely different to be in the bath,
I suddenly see, as opposed to giving it.

3. The mango's tang revives sweet memories
of jacaranda and unusual hotels.

4. As I look at your questioning eyes tonight,
I feel the wrench within
that says the time may finally have arrived
when I should own and guide you.

Is it wise to trust these reawakenings
or is it wine? Can I make these choices mine?
Be calm; I will let the time decide
and if it will, the night can hide
the sorcery that slides revisions in,
and in the morning I will feel,
or not, them living in my skin.

May 12 2011

Turning Out the Light

Turning out the light
is the beginning of morning
because
sleep is a rushing river
that sweeps you swiftly toward
the next day's ocean
along with the flotsam of dreams.

May 4 2011