Look away

You are looking back and forth,
Over shoulders of sea’s breeze

You guess hindsight of walkers.
They shut it up in headphones.

The sea hides endless hindsight
Tucked away at the back of sky.

It is a repository of all hindsight.
Look away and muffle its sound.


Stating facts

Crows sing no more sky songs,
But state facts of life and death.

Ridley turtles are not back yet
With their deaths on high seas.

That was pure poetry in prose
For crows to recite in a chorus.

Crows are death’s prose poems
Their raucous cries state facts.

Blessing boats

May you put out your boats,
Their bodies high on waves,

Their backs blessed for sail,
The wind is safely on backs.

May fishes hide themselves
In sea’s deepest of shadows

And escape treacherous net,
Deaths in strange stomachs.

My understanding is at sea-
An impossibility of blessing

The innocent fish and boats
Both on their backs in a sea.

(after reading Lucille Clifton’s poem Blessing the Boats)

Big mean machine

Man focuses on big mean submarine
On the other side of the road to click

With the shadows of cars and people
Between the submarine and himself.

Big mean machine has its past glory
Rusting in shade of nightly oblivion.

Words wake up our poem at dawn,
Harvesting yellow beauty of words

Like the tiny yellow lights flickering
On contours of a time- rusted body.