poetry

seascape

seascape

sometimes I want a bit of wind and wave
the rhythm of that white curl of crest
smell of battered wrack
the sting of salt and sand
air you feel and taste
pushing your limbs and locks
til you know you’re still embodied
your hair going matted by mist
just looking at the restless grey out there

tonight it’s come with purple puffs of cloud
twining beach pea in the small hump of dune
a skiff with orange sail racing the dark
and a beach I can’t find an end for

this is highly enjoyable
I whisper to myself
(a bit of an understatement)
& thank all the elements for
assembling themselves just so
yet again

poetry

Coral Sea Dreaming

Coral Sea Dreaming

floating
in 4 dimensions
all blue
waiting

and then
a gentle soul
flaps quietly
held suspended
by a sea of salt
and imagination

poetry

sunset at Spot X

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sunset at Spot X

clouds split sun to beams
of heavy late afternoon light

just like the cover
of a Christian rock album
she says

someone’s trying to tell
someone something

are you listening?

poetry

waterless ocean

waterless ocean

it’s a curious feeling
this waterless ocean
sea + sand but no
bathing floating quenching

the water does all its usual things
but not to us

chock full of crocs with restless jaws
and box jellies that would unwittingly kill us
(the sign warns apply vinegar
+ immediately begin CPR –
the pain’s so excruciating
it’ll truly stop your heart)

we wander the shore
like Victorian ladies
who for now must keep
our lacy petticoats dry

poetry

jungle gunner

jungle gunner

the people didn’t ask for war
but it came anyway
a sharp steel column
marching on soft green island
while hornbills and Willy wagtails
scattered squawking

war was ready to
mix cement lay guns
and wait
ready to take daughters
bayonet babies
& set things back a century

no, longer: the wounds were
deep, jagged, angry
ripe for infection for generations;
(healing’s so hard
in this tropical heat)

how did it feel
tensed in the narrow-eyed bunker
hoping/not hoping for something to happen
ignoring the soothing voice of the waves
while all day everyday they sighed
home
your home
you’re home
this is your home
how much listening would it take
to know we’re all on one ball?

poetry

flat water soothsaying

flat water soothsaying

nearly still silent
opaque navy water changes,
goes sea glass green

suddenly see-through,
shapes flicker below:
fish rock reef past portent future,
the surface flattened to
one great divining well
a wide scrying glass

but wind and wave muffle, muddy
each deep message
that may be bound to me,
formed by my mind or other

I look, though not deliberately,
satisfied with shadow and suggestion
not needing to know what’s next
not wishing to learn the worst

poetry

not hearing the sea

not hearing the sea

after only four days
the waves have receded
the sound only registers
when I train my attention
on the pleasing steady unevenness
they’ve kept up below
ever since we arrived

so soon we become
senseless of wonder
even when it whispers
in our ears all day

poetry

Dias Beach Absolution

Dias Beach Absolution

upon rounding sharp cliffs
after the men voted no confidence
and the final three days the crew allowed
before their bellies would mutiny
(a pathetically short extension
to reach a hopelessly faraway shore)
had elapsed with no end of Africa in sight
after he halted and buried
he dreams of Indian spices
at Kwaaihoek on the eastern Cape
the unused padrões lay heavy in the hold
and the threat of returning
to the mindless minding of Lisbon’s warehouses
grew more terrifying with each league
of aquamarine the São Cristóvão sliced through
he saw this crescent of inviting beach
and he fell upon it

I forgive you,
Bartolomeu,
for wanting to sink your ankles
in fine white sand
for wishing to slake your salty thirst
with waterfall
for wanting to warm yourself
by a blaze fed by armloads of driftwood
for nestling your body
into the yielding dunes
that molded themselves to your hips
for soiling this land with your unwanted presence

before the Khoikhoi hurled rocks in righteous anger
before the Cabo das Tormentas
seized your own heart and limbs
despite all the damage
your kind wrought
I forgive your need for one night
of slowly spinning stars

poetry

losing the sea

losing the sea

today I couldn’t recall
amphipod
sat silent
while my children said
little shrimp
rolled that springy bugger around
in the back of my brain
all afternoon
without a name surfacing

only at night
by the artificial blue glow
searching little shrimp
does it come to me
in zeroes and ones:
amphipod
different foot

it’s been so long since I had sea legs
I’ve lost this basic building block
of 9000 species
all over our watery planet
ubiquitous
fundamental
shameful not to know

my children aren’t familiar with ocean
they take nothing for granted
have to root around for words
(they don’t have breakers swell spray strand dulse urchin anemone holdfast)
they say:
the waves are in white lines like dissolving sugar
like drifts of snow

making do with similes
for what they don’t yet know