Sunday, March 15, 2015


The sea is rising now. Clouds in the sky,
Grey and foreboding, have thickened the air
Above the dark, watery thoroughfare.
No land in sight — how long since we've been dry? —
We dream of trees that quiver, moan, and sigh,
Of zebras, kangaroos, and angels' hair,
Of moccasins, and flowers everywhere:
Delphiniums, and orchids. Things that die.

With every lie, with every breath we draw,
We sink below the surface of the sea,
Then rise again, like waves, like destiny,
Like barrels of bad wine. Inspiring awe,
Expiring quickly, life begins to gnaw
At our deep hearts, unnecessarily.