Tuesday, December 11, 2012

365-Day Weekend

One flawless wave
One seagull carving into the wind
One name to sign along the
dotted line of the horizon
already obscured by haze & silver mist
a forgery exacting a price that must be paid
for what I have become
then as now the instant & eventual distance
to dissolve like silk or iron in the fists of dark eyed children
the moist pavement breathing
& 400 miles later a black tar reckoning
on the pier at high noon
with Our Lady of Fatima
& the last stone plugged into the altar
sealed with postage stamps painted with pilot whales
to commemorate the surgical precision of waves
My heart is an underwater bowling alley
spraypainted with Paleozoic graffiti
to explain why the ocean is wet
because “mourning becomes electrum”
& the future can be read in the compression dings
on my surfboard
even when it isn’t raining
The seaweed blossoms
            woven into the green hair of sea nymphs
                        who dream of one-way tickets to
                        Hollywood or Tupelo
are like ransom notes
that got lost in the mail