Away.

I dropped myself backwards over the stern,

you stood at the bow, unwilling to learn,

refusing to follow the map I had drawn,

stagnantly anchored there all the night long,

your disgust was apparent as I swam farther away,

you began to pull the anchor up immediately,

but your head-games had already turned me cold,

so I kept on dog-paddling and cursed you, tenfold,

and as I saw you sail away without me,

just as I should’ve felt my most empty,

the weight of the ocean’s fathomless depths,

vacuumed me up with one huge, inhaled breath,

tucked me safely within its motherly net,

and whispered with love that I wasn’t dead yet,

seeming to rise from the uncharted deep,

a ghostly phantom too long  gone to sleep,

to guide my tired mind and broken body,

to a place of solid earth and humanity,

I found you once again so long afterward,

you were too frozen in place to utter a word,

and I simply conveyed my thanks to you,

for forcing me to see the true colors in you.

 

 

 

Sullen Swim.

If you’ve ever swam outward,
against the tides,
using only –
one arm and its hand;

You will know, then,
the difficulty lies,
in between –
a horizon and the sand;

If you’ve embraced the ocean,
in the blackness of night,
amid curious faces –
worn by beast, and no man;

If you’ve long made point,
to swim beyond,
the buoys –
farthest from the land;

If the water doesn’t sting,
your eyes or burn skin,
carry on then,
carry out the plan;

If you have ever taken,
that final, Sullen Swim,
to let spread –
the ashes of beloved wise-man;

If you’ve ever hated,
what you usually love,
an affect of –
the end of a father’s lifespan;

If you’ve been tangled in kelp-beds,
way out with the otters,
cracking clams–
with their human-like hands;

If you’ve been out too long,
dazed by a breaker’s blow,
defying–
the tugging at your hand;

If you’ve been spun,
like a washing machine,
hard tumbled –
inside a tornado of sand;

If you’ve had that moment,
when reality,
starts dawning –
quite differently than planned;

If so, you must know as well as me,
of a poisonous affinity,
the salinity –
measuring
four quarters of who I am.

 

Spun Too Long.

Moonlit terrain,
sand grain,
foamy kisses
between
seas and shores,
blue-green,
manzanita whispers
the bellow
traveling lazily
from a distant
skipper’s fog horn.
Sharpness of pain,
to spy you again,
like a familiar
and haunting
rhythmic cleanse,
dance with me,
dangerously
here where the
shores kiss the seas,
do not leave
in the absence
of my trailing feet.
Memories overlaid,
delusions overplayed,
broken
like a record
the turntable
spun too long
until the sound
fell silently away.

Sullen Swim.

If you’ve ever swam,

against the tides,

using only –

one arm and its hand;

You will know then,

that difficulty lies,

in between –

a horizon and the sand;

If you’ve swam underwater,

in the blackness of night,

seen faces –

worn by beast, and no man;

If you’ve made point,

to swim beyond,

the buoys –

farthest from the land;

If the water doesn’t sting,

your eyes or burn skin,

carry on –

carry out the plan;

If you have ever taken,

the final, Sullen Swim,

to dump –

ashes of special man;

If you’ve ever hated,

what you love,

an effect of –

the end of a lifespan;

If you’ve gone out too far,

beyond the otters,

cracking shells –

with their hands;

If you’ve been out too long,

until you turn code blue,

ignoring –

the tugging at your hand;

If you’ve been spun,

like a washing machine,

tumbled around –

inside a tornado of sand;

if you’ve had that moment,

when your reality,

hits you –

a little differently than planned;

Then you must know then,

a poisonous affinity,

salinity –

Four quarters of who I am.

Ghost Dive.

"In the Fog" Capitola, California 2014

“In the Fog” (Photo taken by Americana Injustica, Capitola, California 2014)

Had not you been stolen
away from its sands,
who knows then, my dear?…
where your feet might let you land,
I can see
your face beneath,
the kelp and reef
quite possibly…
drowning
in old misery;

Were you not whisked away
to a far and foreign place,
how might it have become, I fear…
the smile gone from that face,
I can sense
the elegance,
buckets from whence
you counted
grains
in beach tents;

What if? You had no mother
to make up your little mind?
a different man, you understand…
born of a different experience, unkind,
I can feel
pain: so very real,
it’s deep, it’s instilled
but, you’ve conquered
forgiveness
titanium within thy will;

May your prose always shine
Ever-more than just a shimmer
may your wetsuit ever-protect
skin and bones of its swimmer;
I can dive
right alongside,
deeper than shame or pride
to show you – the faces
ghosts
left far behind.