refraction

Too long it's been
too long
since i've been down
to this coast   and out
along the promontory where my sea bashes
pulsing
on my rocks.

Water-words nibble and worry and drip at
my soft sandstone underbelly:
phrases spinning on a wire-wheel wind
strip and shape my dunes,
and mountainous huge whole
weed-wracked poems bight
my continent in that part where, thighs
spread, things once borne under water
loll & roll in the muck
of an ebb tide.  My apostles, paragraphs,
erode erode
twelve, eleven...
my seven sisters six..
these penurious countdowns
toward some feeble sputtering
blastoff - five vowels
here, in the roaring four-three-two

    one

   more
ejaculation
should do it my sea
will cover my land.  splashdown -
there'll be no more walking then;   no
coast patrols..

for an epoch, needs must, i will swim

foucault's pendulum

the Huma bird

(may its shadow touch us)
      it is said, once it has
taken to flight
      will not

alight

     until at last it must
fall
     back


              to
        the rocks which bore it.

no perch
no roost
no tuck of
                            head
           beneath
wing


foucault's pendulum
completes no circles
 

it is the earth that moves.