Published April 9, 2007
The equivalent of an island adrift
in a passionate sea: we are the rock of
reason sinking into what the senses lack
--imagination.
An oil spill that ebbs and flows against
the reasoned continents, we stand on
seashores next to angels; oblivious or
maybe indifferent.
As our answers give way to more questions,
we find ourselves wondering whether John chose
the wild or was it because he had no choice,
because the weight of the world is less urgent
under the open sky, or maybe
because he knew that we see best without the
surf in our eyes.
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Well, wysteria pretty much covered everything I was going to say. The sea is a beautiful thing, and this gave me a great mental image of it. It's a fantastic poem in my opinion, keep up the good work!
this was great overall. the sea is a beautiful image. it reminds me of the awakening, which is one of my favorite books, even though in that it is concrete. here's a quote: "how strange and awful it seemed to stand naked under the sky! how delicious! she felt like some new-born creature, opening its eyes in a familiar world it had never known. the foamy wavelets curled up to her white feet, and coiled like serpents about her ankles. she walked out. the water was chill, but she walked on. the water was deep, but she lifted her white body and reached out with a long, sweeping stroke. the touch of the sea is sensuous, enfloding the body in its solf, close embrace."
so, again. great job. i'll definitely be reading more of your work.