The afternoon before the storm,

Waves pour in - breaking

News beyond the norm -

Like skeletons, raking


Envelopes of sand

From an earth Pleistocene,

Gale’s approaching second hand

Now a sky gone submarine.


Lands to clouds, clouds to bays,

Sweep the human wrecks in,

Summer’s oceanic sprays

Brushed on beach’s garbage bin.


Haze that tumbles over glass,

Clipped from whitecaps by the winds,

Straining labradors that pass

In front of styrofoam horizons


Like prisms circling the sun

That focuses itself on us,

The known world’s final run

Around the daily cumulus


Where the season finally sleeps,

The rushing tidal slope

That the setting planet keeps

Out of ex post facto hope


That, instead of desks and pens,

Where all the flotsam ends,

Cameras will point the lens

Where the pen itself intends.



August 10th, 2009