WORMHOLE V2

Sea rises with the stars

Around us; the island stays

The same. But the engine knocks.

The ocean grows in size,

Seiches test the rocks,

Slurps ventriloquize

The waves; earth itself

Liquidifies. We live at last

In the middle of the shelf,

Drowning in a blast

Of tides. The unseen reaches

Of the world go wild,

Saner versions of its sun

And beaches gone,

Or disproportionate.

 

The horizon of events

Expands dependably from

Its opposite, from a mild

Summer really, from the trawls

Of routine sense.

Released from normal walls

Of sight and sound,

From gardens, lawns, and roads,

From the anchor of the light,

What we know erodes so

Easily from lies, from choice,

From a small boy’s eyes

Just waiting for the shrouds

To lift, for the sky’s

Increasing voice

And the clouds’ cyclonic drift.

 

January 16th and 17th, 2007, Lanikai