The blind man stands on the bulkhead feels the tide through the timbers a vibration in his balls and the balls of his feet drunk on the scent of creosote the rampant fertility of the ocean
he’s been told the ocean is big a roofless cavern shifting dancefloor all he knows is that it communicates arrhythmically with mist and judder punctuates itself like a child
his skin is beginning to burn a tightness on his arms the backs of his hands blotched with salt speckles and eczema heat building for which he has no answer there’s no desire to fall forward
the water sounds like a slurping maw sucking its teeth for every dead morsel – he doesn’t want to see cares nothing for the mystery of fish of icebergs of leaping whales stands in defiance a snack unavailable
a poet from Seattle Washington USA. His poetry has appeared in print in publications such as Bellowing Ark, Point Nopoint, and most recently in Contraposition magazine. When not writing poetry he is a Human Resources professional, a repentant glutton, and a novelist specializing in the weird-fiction genre.
Everything we know, or think we know, comes from an infinitesimal speck of time and space. “Important” people, just random specks of insignificance. Nothing more than Sea Monkeys, fluttering around Sea Monkey world. Everything spoken as truth only reinforces ignorance.
Tears of Man You have the right to remain silent. Do you make the choice or remain violent? Do you evolve and become more civilized? Or do you choose to stay belligerent? You choose to be healthy, like you are
The bones are brittle as are the thoughts they crumble events of yesterdays that never happened things that happened not remembered today becomes another time faces and events mingle become a crazy quilt He sits and stares unaware of a
Who said that dawn doesn’t know him? Yes … Who has said that? He is secreting night when the sunset flows to poem end ; the flute, which surrendered stealthily to the day song, it runs away from the maze
The pressure in his head at times was unbearable like a vice clamped around his forehead having it twisted a 1/4 –turn at a time and when he finally thinks it can’t get anymore painful then bad timing comes around