The Ocean Is Prolix

1 June 2013

and talks with its mouth full
of tapered ships deltas the bon voyage tube worms
It calls out in trains and crumpled paper
with its water engines it stores its voice in shells
Hypnotic as fire as it brings out wistfulness
and questions for the glassy shrimp
and sex-changing fishes Stilettos of thoughts
are honed on its splintered water lights
Corals beckon from cloud parishes
barnacles sea-squirts saltwater hearts
The more I look down from the dock I subdivide
to chapters of wonder gists contingencies
whole gamuts of liquid supposes what-if’s
dizzy ladders of sequiturs and floating egg jellies
tides between my thoughts and the breathing water
I evert with the sea cuke my shell goes soft
When I leave my body stays in a plankton dream
I drag off a home of ideas like a hermit crab
my head leaving a plow mark

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