Sometimes, in the midst of a very down mood will come a moment of breathtaking clarity. I used to call these "perfect moments; here's something written in one of those moments, a long time ago, when I was feeling alone and homesick.
Untitled
I sit watching the sea facing East
(I used to watch West)
The seagrass waves its spiky tendrils
like antennae caressing whorls of wind
Alien Atlantic waves tumble toward the shore
their slow sinewy power an ominous potentiality
Clouds rise out of the edge of the world
sleepy gray behemoths above a steel gray sea
In the midst of mists, a cloud blushes pink
a whisper from the wild Pacific, calling me home
I genuinely intended to publish mostly paintings here in this blog, but poetry seems to be what's happening right now.
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