Showing posts with label sea change. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sea change. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 20, 2023

The Potato Selkie

 


"...I am a man upon the land
I am a silkie on the seaAnd when I'm far and far frae landMy home, it is in Sule Skerrie.."




The Potato Selkie
 
 
 

He came frying to earth
on a feather not feather,
a float of an idea soft
as a potato, begging for form.

I put him to age
in a metal-bound cask to see
what he might eventually be;
something playful

and deadly as vodka,
or a poor-mind's pierogi
 to be gnoshed then spat
like sawdust-wurst. I sunk the cask

beneath a wave (New Wave, they say) 
and soon saw a man upon dry land
who dreamed of a selkie on the sea,
a million miles from Sule Skerrie

With a slick-metal sheen, he
sang to me in a lilt and croon
like potato mash, shapeshifting
 animus to idiot maximus.

In his strangle, only heat and dead air
still and dry, a trembling reflection
a shimmer of no-light, a clockwork cry
as he grabbed for my pen

with his fish-breath mouth,
jumped in the sea
and drowned
again.
 
 

June 2023















posted for Poetry Slam at The Singularity Corral
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Top Image: The Hand, ©Salvador Dali 1930   Fair Use
Ai generated image sadly failing to be a selkie of any kind but at least forlorn about it.

Thursday, October 13, 2022

Blown Away

 
 
 
Blown Away
 
 
Come look
at what I salvaged
from the breakdown:
 
in this jar is Chicago
with its concrete throat
that tried so hard to swallow me
 
and here is Montana
mountain wild, spruce bending
to save me, painted
 
in five colors on my spurious tongue
that cracked ripe hearts
like nutshells in

the vise of logic. The rest
of what I had sailed in my witchboat,
to a quiet Viking funeral with
 
 no one watching--riddled
seeds, costumes and seven secrets
wrapped in your trinket kisses--

but I kept the beach
at Point Reyes, where the wind
clean off the ocean

is strong enough
to blow away
your life.




October 2022
















posted for







 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Images: Untitled (marina) © Zdzislaw Beksinksi   Fair Use
Point Reyes, California, Tomales Point Trail with Wild Radish, NPS/A. Kopshever   Fair Use

Saturday, July 30, 2022

Eyes Of A Sailor

 
 


 
 
 
Eyes Of A Sailor
(a 55)
 
 My eyes grow rheumy
swimming in moonblur
but witnessing still
light's cut, color's fill,
shadow's indigo blot.
Light the blade, color the cloth,
blue shadow stitching together what's lost.

Old cells' ramparts
falling unfixed; 
wind pulls their dust,
time washes waves
over mitochondrial graves,
but memory sails its unsinkable boat
holding afloat
my far-sighted ghost.
 
 

July 2022



 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
posted for earthweal's
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Images: The Boatman, and Boat of the Mermaid, © Sabin Balasa  Fair Use

Wednesday, March 16, 2022

Home With The Diatoms

 
 

 
 
Home With The Diatoms
 
 
When I was a child
before sleep we prayed
for love to be shown, for safety to stay,
starved children in Korea to be saved.
Then the light would go off.
I'd put my real bed
of conches and nautilus twists
under the toss of the night's waves.

Regal on the seafloor
shells poked their bubbling heads
up out of snow-sand. Aquarelle fins and
gold-grey eye-globes blinked around me,
all greeted with a princess flip
of my green-scaled tail.
Reclined with coelacanths,
eyes blueing in my head,

all my mother-cut hair grown
long as a squid's arm,
I waited to swim into sleep,
watching the shadows of
far-above gulls mottle the green ceiling,
alone yet blanketed in
life watching over me, drowsing
to the epochs' stereopticon flash.

When we met in the deluge
you called in a lost language
for that nightspell to rise, to link us,
to sink us completely
in diatoms, wave after wave,
kissing underwater, not afraid to breathe
not afraid to drown, kelp-hair
in the undertow fanned and fluttered

summoned by a sea-fire of peace
to make ashes of fear.
 


March 2022











posted for earthweal's weekly challenge:















Process note: "..Diatoms are unicellular [microalgae]: they occur either as solitary cells or in colonies, which can take the shape of ribbons, fans, zigzags, or stars..Living diatoms make up a significant portion of the Earth's biomass: they generate about 20 to 50 percent of the oxygen produced on the planet each year,  take in over 6.7 billion metric tons of silicon each year from the waters in which they live, and constitute nearly half of the organic material found in the oceans..."~wikipedia
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Images: The Bright Liquid, © Edmond Dulac    Fair Use
Pink Shell With Sea Weed, 1937  © Georgia O'Keefe    Fair Use

Wednesday, December 8, 2021

Winter's Ship

 
 
 

 
 
 
Winter's Ship
 (a 55)
 
 Oaks on the hillside
know wind's desire
fear nothing but fire
become ships in harbor
to ride the waves' wire.
 
In winter without color
midnights without number
sun  cold as axe-snarl
even passion must freeze
or build a way out.

Wind-eater, wave-runner
dragon-faced prowler
king's-welcome coffin;
last home like her first,
the earth roots remember.
 
 
 

December 2021








 
 
 
 
 posted for dVerse Poets Poetics:
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Historical Note: "The Gokstad ship is a 9th-century Viking ship found in a burial mound at Gokstad ..Vestfold, Norway It is the largest preserved Viking ship in Norway. It is also the largest Viking ship ever found...During the excavations, a human skeleton was found in a bed inside a timber-built burial chamber. The skeleton was that of a man aged approximately forty to fifty years old, of powerful build..; his identity is unknown. The bones of twelve horses, six dogs, and one peacock were found laid out around the man's body.." ~wikiedia
 
 
 
 
 
 
Images: Gokstadskipet, Vikingskipmuseet, Oslo, 2005, Karamell, shared under a Creative Commons License via wikimedia commons
Danish Winter Landscape, detail, 1838 © Johan Christian Dahl

Friday, November 5, 2021

Floaters

 
 
 

 
 
 
Floaters
 
 
 
My eyes have
made small islands in their sea
that float between me
and what I want to be there,
all desired clear
but now obscured,
invisible for what they are,
and never heard.
Palm trees instead of paragraphs,
not faces, forms, but homemade rafts
drifting across a wavy film, not words,
but blind reality.




 
 November 2021




 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
posted for Meeting the Bar
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Images: Clouds In Finland, 1908 © Konrad Kryzanowski,  Public Domain
Boat, c.1918 © Salvador Dali   Public Domain

Thursday, August 19, 2021

Blue Drown

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Blue Drown
 
 
I've been too long
in the blue drown
to feel again now
 
too long under
the mirrorglass glowmoon
that tides me apart
to answer your voice
 
too many waves
with their concrete hands
on my throat
their sucking salt drench
in my eyes and mouth
to ask who's to blame.
 
There's no pain left
on this sand 
swirled trashed beach
where I've come to meet
 
the last falling star,
the hungry crabs.
 
 
 
 
July 2021 
 





 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 posted for Open Link Night at
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Images: Looking For Crabs Among The Rocks, 1905 © Joaquin Sorolla  Public Domain
Two Crabs, 1889  © Vincent Van Gogh       Public Domain
I have manipulated both images.
 
 
 
 
 
 

Saturday, August 22, 2020

The Wandering Eye




The Wandering Eye



I made you
from a map, a hawk and a flower.
I thought you
clockwork-canny, full of power,
a road-veined eye for
spying the highway hours;


a bird, a map,
a flower meant to be
a fragrance and a passage 
 seeking sea.
But so far away
you flew there could never be


a coming back
despite the lies, despite the slick pretense,
so to see you now
as a morph'd and piddling glance
on a burning
globe of constant transience


is only another
blink of blight and fear.
You tell me this
is the you who's real and clear;
fine words from one
who's broken every mirror. 






August 2020, 
(with fragments from March 2014)













posted for




























Images:Still Life with Spherical Mirror, 1934 © M.C. Escher   Fair Use
footer, artist and title unknown,  Fair Use


Friday, February 21, 2020

Una Fantasía de Barcelona





Una Fantasía de Barcelona
"---Soledad of my sorrows, the horse that runs away
finds the sea at last and is swallowed by the waves.
---Don't remind me of the sea, for the black pain springs
from the land of the olives/under the rustling leaves."
 ~Ballad of the Black Pain, Federico Garcia Lorca
~*~

Barcelona opens herself at dawn
to the wind off the ocean 
so she may bathe in seabirds
as they rise to her through

apricot clouds, as they sway
past umbels of oleander 
from Morocco,
black-red in pale tubs.

In the crimson sun of noon, she rides
a burning bull to the market
peonies flaring his nostrils,
with eyes of yellow wheat; his horns

of sand gore the stone streets
to a delirium of olive trees. Silver bells 
shimmer cries, murdering dusty nothing 
in the corners of the dark church.

Barcelona in the tourmaline night
remembers her gulls, her gannets and
shearwaters, singing sailor's ballads
to the white stucco walls that

crack with the loss of the sun,
songs of the runaway horse
racing blind to the sea cliff, 
where in freedom he drowns,

lyrics of power and terror, of
flying moons and sinking ships,
and the sweet rustle of the one
who settles in the nest.

Barcelona at dawn
opens herself to me on
her bed of shells, solid as sea foam,
womb-warm and fragrant with

her thousand desires; but
my heart is a white petrel flying
far, far over the razor waves, who
never means to land.



February 2020
with thanks to Shay Simmons for the borrowing of her birds







 posted for
earthweal Open Link











Note: This is about a fantasy of Barcelona, as the title suggests (except that oleander does come from Morocco.) I have never been to Barcelona except in this poem. 


For all the earthwealers, in the real world Barcelona, like the rest of the planet's coastal cities, is exposed to the dangers of climate change, and recently underwent severe flooding from Storm Gloria
".. along the east coast of mainland Spain. The worst coastal flooding was reported around the Ebro river delta south of Barcelona, where the storm surge swept up to 3 kilometres (1.9 mi) inland through low-lying rice paddies. In Lloret de Mar and Tossa de Mar, sea foam whipped up by high winds moved inland from the beach, blocking streets. At the Port of Barcelona, waves crashed as high as 7 metres (23 ft) over defenses, flooding coastal properties..."~wikipedia  
Video clips of the foam blocking streets are quite striking.




Images: Green Sky, © Jose Manuel Capuletti, circa 1950-55? Fair Use 
A gull overflies the Mediterranean sea during strong winds in Barcelona, Spain, Monday, Jan. 20, 2020...(AP Photo/Emilio Morenatti)