Away from imbroglios and brouhahas
To the torpid shorelines
Of oleaginous waves
Awash from dread and doubt
Brings forth a pulsing sorrow
Overwhelmed by drowning blues
Of sea and sky and burning sand
Of land-bound winds and crashing wake
In tranquility life is muted
Gulls spin on a mobile
Star-shaped shadows flit across the sand
Concave dune and convex contour
Shrill bell-cry through feathered throats
Rhythmic scuttling under the pier
Careful crab claws collect
Treasures no other would keep
But the high tide who’d steal them back
Stagnant indifference arrests the heart
The ocean recedes toward the horizon
Fish lay putrid and silver
In the stale rays of the day
And the rotted oyster tide
Hulls groan and chip their paint
Their decks creak in horror
Restless convicts of the bay
Knock the lynch-pin wharf
Inward cries split the ribs
Unbearable benevolence
I’d destroy it if I could
To bring an equilibrium
Wrapped in gloom-cloaked wings
She calls my name I am soothed
The oleaginous waves
The torpid shorelines
Wash away dread and doubt
P.S.Clinen 