[starboard port]
the ocean—an onyx plate predawn—
somnambulant ships preen with a swag of
warning lights
massive hulls: cargo ships, flotillas, tankers,
passenger liners loll; red lights buss
the somber slate of sky—spangled strings of
bawdy bulbs on the riggings—pole dance
beside the quay—ridged, behemoth smokestacks
toy with the flames of gold and white
[cabin’s lav—occupied]
waiting, my mind trundles to funeral pyres
Viking ships, then returns to marvel at
on-coming airport pot lights which
upstage the walled gasps
[very occupied]
the exodus to Singapore crescendos
we land—manned the plane performs
a ritual slide—ash and steam spew from
stacks of the other perpendicular
members
Touch down.
[the door opens]
First Published by Shooter Literary Magazine Spring of 2017
Categories:
riggings, love,
Form: Free verse
She has been gaining on us
Our hold heavy
With burdensome loot
Our riggings pock-marked
From the shot of exchanges
And the stress of this South Sea.
Duties never change
Sometimes lightened with song
But many a time
On our knees scrubbing.
Or hauling sheets
Or scampering aloft.
We know our lowliness
Those skeletons of drink, darkness
And debauchery ashore.
Captain reads us Psalms
Many a morn
But the images are so foreign
Like an exotic verdant isle
Not yet landed.
And this other bonnie ship
Gaining this late afternoon
All sails full and profiting
This might be the last
Of our nights for this flag.
Close watch to lights and breeze
We reckon.
And who are they?
And whose Crown?
And will we be shackled
Below decks?
Or given happy privilege
To serve and strain
And sing yet again?
For a different Captain
Headed for a different land?
With what seems
Totally different purpose.
(* Salvation starts with total despair of self, leading to an overthrow, a boarding, and a subjugation with ultimate gladness to a different Captain and King. Think I'm gonna sail away with Him.)
Categories:
riggings, christian, ocean, sea,
Form: Ballad
I fail before the broken mast
riggings rope the hangman's noose
untethered rudder I to piteous winds
in the wreckage trench-ed waves efface
A prayer to this salted scathing howl
to none but the applause of tattered sails
shall lash my death upon barnacles
bereft tombstone carved by broken wood
Doomed I to hold this wheel
too long this breath to splutter my spume-ed curse
forsaken prow before the rancor of pitiless reef
spare us from swallowing the demon of the depths
Arrogance forsake those pirate flag bones
for fear wrought chained to our robbery
my guilty tongue so does lament
please stand this keel above all furious crest
Dear forest Gods keep us afloat
ancient sturdy decks bare us no ill
carry all to the repenting of storms
it is our families and aye my wife awaits at home
Categories:
riggings, sea, storm,
Form: Free verse
Barchans go on droughting in Yagyakarta sods
outpaced here I throw a soliton in gaze-mirage
*
Here we stand on this, the Lee of
Dual Sandhorns { and they
the Phantom Tips of those horns they know what you say -
such fees to demand and how you shall pay no dues!
I’d rather make alive downward facing forms of genesis! I
know, I do know of raining beyond the slip face,
of angles reposed to the honest tenor of our shared Ocean Sky,
where the firmament congeals
to dream postures of
Carretera Interoceanica
where pools in the cool shade of memories that yet are to be
remember of strange filaments, of knees
reclining and worn to urn-dust in their riggings,
reduced to the once-wet bones of Joshua ash and yet!
i r i d e s c e n t s t r e a m s
punch
through
the utmost firmness of form - coalesced
in situ hubrisae,
borne still upon gusts of human wresting,
human heft en masse like all your favorite waves of sound, water and light
slammed by force into prophecies that might
release -
and so unseen
be,
like Zastruga-dew trees
or this home we call Kzynda.
Categories:
riggings, adventure, art, fantasy, imagination,
Form: Free verse
Who will set the mainsail and chart the course?
Now that the ship’s captain has gone away?
Calm the crew when the sea rages with force?
Now who will stand the helm day after day?
His schooner swings gently from her moor
Subtle waves slap rhythmically at her side
His last look at her when he went ashore
And to wave goodbye once more before he died
Wind whispers through her riggings shrouds
This orphan alone abandoned there by fate
The tears rain down from darkened clouds
Oh captain mine, oh captain I shall wait
Categories:
riggings, loss,
Form: Free verse
SUMMER NIGHTS QUIET BROKEN BY THE SOUNDS OF VOICES
SOFT WHISPERS BREATHED BETWEEN LOVERS
WAVES LAPPING AT THE SIDES OF BOATS THE WIND WHISTELING IN THE RIGGINGS
I CAN ALMOST FEEL HER NOW
THE FIRST TIME
OUT ALONE IN A CAR TOGETHER
DREAMS SOMETIMES DO COME TRUE
EVEN WHEN YOU’RE WIDE AWAKE
SOFT SKIN GLISTENING IN THE MOONLIGHT
HER EYES SLEEPY
BUT EVERY PORE ON HER BODY SCREAMING AND WANTING
AND ME NOT KNOWING WHAT I WANTED TO TOUCH FIRST
BUT TOUCH I DID
AGAIN AND AGAIN
AND THAT NIGHT LIVES FRESH IN MY MIND
AS I LIE BESIDE HER WATCHING HER SLEEP ALL THEESE YEARS LATER
Categories:
riggings, angst
Form: I do not know?
Boxed in
and filled with sand
like a dry ocean
the towering
creosote soaked pillions
take the form
of an old shipwreck
with riggings, planks
and a captain's wheel.
Paid by the commons
for the children to enjoy.
"Aye scalawags all aboard,"
shouts a portly
pint size scoundrel.
Hence heed the call
and came skipping
from his yard
none other than
six year old Suleiman.
"Halt boy,
There are no black pirates"
says the patched eye
little thug
within ear shot
of his parents.
Keeping the world of thievery
squarely in the domain
of whitey.
Categories:
riggings, adventure, black african american,
Form: Free verse