Tag Archives: Seal

Poem for Brian McGackin

A short, simple burst of verse that appears
at first mundane, a slacker’s sonnet, a simple
twist of words that somehow still obscure these
patterns, little games of surreptitious puns and
plays on phrase that only the most astute readers
will pick up on, pick upon, between the subtle
allusions to Seal, or Harry Potter, or, inevitably,
soccer, this false banality that hides a sense
of suffering, of Guinness, of meaning that is
all too often missed though it’s clever when it
lets you in and waives its endless turnpike fees,
a strong syllabic voice that set this website
into motion, keeps my sentences on track, even
when he was kind of a dick about it; but in the end
the purpose or intention is made clear, often
through a seemingly non-sequitur saying that sneaks
in at the climax, the culmination of a short
linguistic journey that illuminates in retrospect
the bullshit lines before it: Happy Birthday.

Seal on a Bus

Last night I slept to ocean sounds, and watched
across the water as the whales confessed
their love in song, slapping their massive tails
against the surface after each bellow.

And all upon the shoreline were engulfed
in sleep or love, drifting in and out of
consciousness as ripples from the whale songs
lapped up against the drowsy sands; except

a solitary seal, awake, barking
syncopatically, forced from the beach
for disrupting their aquatic concert.
And slowly he fled inland; and often

he tried to make songs of his own, waiting
for someone to beckon him home.