Generally, the nights broke phenomenal
through the window
east, the din of gulls made known
the clamour of day
none too gently; blue opacity
of the sea’s plateau
eventually wound its way thru all the senses,
the new-scrubbed Seattle grey
valenced in bulk
to a crescendo
that demanded
eyes, provoked nose:
a wild
earthly wheel’d shock
of a land-locked
mariner’s legs exposed.
Let’s say,
for once,
that this morning
was different, whether
yawl or pitch of the wind
lifted something else from blue
nothing to the sky above,
or perhaps the weathered
nymphs, in their tide turning,
knew (what had changed), and
decided on that breaking
to say something different.
Assuredly, I was not
the only one to behold the
vivid spectacle, in new light, look
on what was wrenched the night before
into the Insatiable Darkness- we, suspended
through Its vaporous demeanor
on wings,
soft droplets of surface condensed
to ephemeral stream.
...
...
August 17th, 2008
Morning, after
Snowdrop Tulip Walker Festival
...
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