Duncan’s Point Along Highway 1

I.

Purple delosperma frozen on stone cliffs

windswept granite.

Permanent calligraphy on blue canvas

only tides change.

II.

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.

III.

Waves rise on jade wings

into windswept granite

they fragment.

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”

Nightfall

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.