New poem: Dry
Dry
When the ocean fled
we were left with many dead
fish.
That Wednesday (Thursday in Japan)
when the seas just up and ran
the fishermen in fallen hulls
had one or two good raking days
of harvest. Bloated gulls
were everywhere and gorged
on mundane bass and trout
and monstrous, deep trench horrors
eye-stalks poking out
of yellow, running beaks.
What had been beach
was now just sandy path between
two dirt worlds
no spray, no salt, no scene
but earthy, constant fixity.
And you won’t sing for me.
September 25th, 2007 at 2:31 pm
Love the visuals here. Very nice. Great last line too.
October 2nd, 2007 at 10:38 pm
Dude;
Wonderful! Love it! Home run!
Mitch
March 13th, 2010 at 3:23 am
When you’re in the corner and have no cash to move out from that point, you will require to take the credit loans. Because it would help you emphatically. I get collateral loan every time I need and feel myself fine just because of that.