Tag Archives: ocean

Bluff

The poor wind-blown trees: rich in nutrients,
at least, but sea-blasted, crooked to the
roots, laying down their arms in deference
to a much superior fighting force,
hanging their leafy heads in shame that they
cannot withstand this grand oceanic
battering ram, a united front come
up from the air’s equivalent of an
icy hell——blacker than the deep-pressured
and starless night of the sightless swimmers,
their taste rudely breezed into the bark——their
horror coming more in the vanity
of not knowing how they live when we see
trees upright each day that never complain.

Fire Pit

I’m not sure how I’d explain the ocean
to a man unfamiliar with its vast
and terrible face, except by maybe
equating it with what he’s seen of the
inner places: a wet and near endless
desert where the wind whips the blue-green
sand into moving dunes; a flat mountain
of melted snow with fish and seaweed for
rocks and sparse grass, including the ravines;
a thousand thousand rivers side by side,
a thousand thousand more as deep and wild;
climb the nearest hill and look down upon
the canopy at dusk, teeming with life
and fear and darkness. Am I getting close?