Oceanic Sabbath
We have no sabbath sense
deep enough
wet enough
searching baptismally enough
for Earth's oceanic atmosphere.
Sabbath is for monotheistic cities
and castled lands
we anthro-supremacist share
to weekday busyness hold them
six weakly orthodox dry days per week
On lands we sell ourselves
to uneasily rest
deeply contest
land-based sixes
and sacred sevens
Crowding human over-splattered population
huddling beneath self-mattered desecrated sabbaths
longing to land-based rabid breed
deeper nourished oceanic sacramentals
higher flourished seasoned ornamentals.
Over these past several seasick years
Sunday crawls back toward Atlantic's western shore,
border stretch of dry as lustless dust
then wet love-drenched sand
leading out to ocean's deep sustaining
Atlantis-Pacific round wet sabbath
Populated more and more
by all-consuming human barging desecration,
I notice my slowly growing urge
to run then walk then swim to float away
from continental fractured unrest
Compelled to seek a cooler wetter nest
where sabbaths still speak sea-psalm gullibly
in bygone blissful birdsongs
swaying surging suds
of soulfully submerging
saliently surfing
salty sacramental tears
reviving EarthPacific SunDays.
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