Duncan’s Point Along Highway 1
Purple delosperma frozen on stone cliffs
Permanent calligraphy on blue canvas
only tides change.
Carved into a driftwood bench
three names now forgotten.
Sunlight long before me lies
waves are foam and foam is salt
that glistens like sequin troughs.
Each sequin an unknown name
yearning to be remembered.
Waves rise on jade wings
into windswept granite
A Poem Without Poetry
Scorpio rises between Jupiter and Venus.
I’m sure there’s something here
for astrologers and English critics
to unpack and study.
But tonight there is no symbolism or metaphor,
there is no alliteration, anaphora, or allegory,
there is no repetition, rhyme, or meter.
There is no poetic language.
Tonight there is just a pen and paper
who say only five simple words:
“I miss you. I’m sorry”
The tide drummed against the shore
her rhythmic chanting soothing ancient wounds.
Slowly the moon rose over the redwood canopies
in chase, Venus followed her lover.
I recalled my texts on gravity
the stronger force attracts the weaker one
and it seems even in nature the strong prey on the weak
for ensnared by the moon’s pull was Venus.
Until she broke away from the moon’s waning strength
and across the sky she rode alone
westward towards the sun’s descent
leaving the moon forgotten to rise alone.
I craned my neck to watch the moon
whisper of love of sorrow of regret
to any who would listen.
His voice quavered and he gasped
before descending below the canopy
welcoming midnight geists.