part i
part ii
part iii
author’s blog


My soul calls out to me,
“Come be alone!”
So I drive out toward the place
Where I love to sit,
Deep in the park
Where the birds sing sweet,
And I can ponder and think.

And speaking of thinking,
As I feel that pull,
I stop and decide to avoid the fates.
I’ll go completely the opposite way.
I drive to a lonely strand—
A sandy shoreline where nobody ever bothers to go,
Or bothers to stop, for that matter.

I step out of my car and survey
The empty, wind blown beach.
A wasteland of tumbled up weeds,
Briars, and blackberries
Give way to grain after grain of sterile sand.

The winds are pushing the waves to the limit.
They pound and turn, relentless, and crash,
Over and over, lulling me into their rhythm and pulling me close.

I think about sitting right down on the sand,
But the repetitive beating and pulse of the sea
Has hypnotized my soul.

All in this world I can see for this moment
Is wading steadily into that water
And relieving my every qualm
In the heart of it’s conquering waves.

My feet reach the wet, overpowered layer,
And the first bit of water foams and sprays on them.
My toes gasp a bit
But hold on for dear life
As I continue out to my knees.

Trudging now against all opposition
That would push me back to a sanded seat,
I’m in all the way
Up to my narrowed waist.

My soaking clothes hang wet and heavy,
Floating in the excess, pulling in the tow.
I pull my shorts off and fling them beachward,
My top quickly following.

I dive straight headlong into the waves,
Riding them, big, and gently swelled.
I’m completely free, exhilarated,
By their overwhelming largeness,
And all of my helpless flails.

Out of the cradle endlessly rocking—
I feel a Whitman moment coming,
A riptide of multitude proposing,
Floating me out of control.

Suddenly bobbing up like a cork
From an elegant bottle of perfectly aged wine,
It’s him,
Out of nowhere,
The strange good looking man,
Skinny dipping with me.

His landfall a few short meters there,
Nonchalantly sharing my wave,
A smile on his brow
Like a navy frogman,
I wonder if he opens his eyes under water.
I kind of think he did.

His knowing eyes stare deep, right thru me.
To the soul who tried to avoid
His chancy advances,
He speaks the words
Stronger and more delicious than any,
Then he twines and turns me up in his arms.

I feel my heart going down for the third time,
While only the mocking bird’s throat can chant
The pains and joys,
The uniting of here and hereafter,
As you sing to me
In fitful risings and fallings
Your transparent hints and reminiscings.