Storm CallSeasong carriesover water, awaySailing the windTo the end of daySurrounding soundHigh fidelity, hearkenA weather eyeSensitive evenWhen autumn skiesDarkenDistant thunderRestless wavesClouds scatter and fleeThe nightStarless,Breathless,Pressure buildingThe pauseBefore taking flightBetween here and awayThe moment stretchingThe pause between breathsTaking lifetimesThe calm that comes before the storm...Ocean already tugs at the lifelines.A whisper of cooler Atlantean airPolite warning… The storm comesFrom the breath of susurrationTo the thundering wave's drumsInexorably now, it comes.Caught up by horizon stormsThe shore beneath you disappearsThe sea provides fair warning.And from the savage night — Full-throated furies howl and rage — Emerging, battered,Fragile, shattered,High and dry by morning.Cast up by the seaStrange creatures and mysteriesLeave beachcombers to wonderBut what the sea providesThe storm-surge yie
YieldAutumn cloaks a darkling soulIn half-truths of vermillionCrimson, scarlet, amber, goldBeneath a blue pavilionAutumn hides its old grey bonesIn cupboards filled with snail shellsSkeins of birds and garden stonesWhere every half-lit secret dwellsAutumn’s guise is gossamerThistledown in parachutesRushing waters’ dulcimerAnd reed-song veil its bitter fruitsAutumn’s spirit is occultMelancholy, insidiousIt offers balmy days’ exultThen turns to storm, perfidiousAutumn’s altar smells of rainLeaf-mold, woodsmoke, rot and rustI yield to darkness in the veinAnd sacrifice content and trust
rain angellie down on the smooth footpathit has been warmed by the sun formany hourslie down and feel the heat againstyour back and the ants that beginto crawl through your dry hairrelaxand read the skyspread out your arms on the footpath andgaze aheadinto the roiling black heavensjust wait there, wait until theyopen upon yougentleand warmand humblingblotting circles pattern around you until the sky and the path are painted the samebut for a smiling rain angel where you liesheltering beneath youand that strong, heady scent of petrichor that surrounds youcomfortingeverything becomes wetcarbon, concrete, chlorophyllthe tickling ants run for shelter and youbecome freelet this all-consuming deluge wash you awayforget the nuances of a crowded, bustling lifemoney, jobs, responsibilitieshuman injusticefor just a few minutes while the warmth fadesyou don't need to be afraidyou are a child of the earthsmilejust breatheand free your mindwhen you are done and drenchedrol
NaiadI am of the tall kelp and hard cliffs madeI do not bow, I do not breakI am coldness, I am hungerNo one is older, no one is youngerMy soul is pure yet deep as the lakeInto which Bedivere returned the magic blade.If you find me hiding in the reedDo not be frightened by my blue-grey faceMen who come wish to cover me in dressesBut I’m fine, my dignity saved by my black tressesWomen may leave an offering of delicate laceOr gold coins, as if my hunger is one of greed.But don’t come too close to the water brinkI am the guardian of all those who sleepEternally in seas dark and rivers wildI embrace every spurned lover and unwanted childAnd drag them down, for my sisters to keepClose to their hearts, their blood to drink.
Low Newton-by-the-sea, October 2014 (18th - 24th)a)(i.e, Day One)Egg seaweed;Ocean burst firstfrom eggs called seashells.The Kraken, a baby prawn.Ceramic fans from pre-Japanopening up the primordial pearl.Sedimentary rocksoftens to pub-food Swiss cheese.Barnacle pastry breaking, crackingopen to reveal dinosaur-wells,excavating the latticework of the sea.Neptune’s portcullis.Underneath are the oceans that separatedto rock pools. Rebel lakes whocut the murk-mahogany woods underneathwaves. One such “weed”,an octopi’s maple leaf,lies shipwrecked on a driftwood-dry shore.The stalk of a crab, breathing outdeep blue treacle from its crimson roots.The beach thins to a kitchen knife,stretching into a submerged pointbefore everything becomes liquid.Cutting awaythe foamy fat.b)(i.e, Day 2)The sun lumpeda dollop of overexposed butteron to the sea, blinding meto go the other way.It’s a mini Gobi,sandbox Sahara,wet desert safely nearthe Blue Drink.The wind shoves me forwardto shak
cosine wavesliquidParabola hits shoreas x^2obtuse angleflattens to 180°numberlessFoam
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