Thursday 11 August 2011

Big Log, Brighton Beach

My story is deep rivulets and currents.

Never will you know me: desert

blue and silver sand untwigged me.

I have no sap left for insects;

no pith will ooze your palm. No.

I toppled long ago and now you rest

soft meat here – talk and chew, talk, chew;

not knowing what you do.

Lay hands on me and feel my deeper scars

fleshed with aeons – dead – and yet,

like all illuminated souls,

waiting for my sea of resurrection.

4 comments:

  1. Ashes to ashes and trees to sea.

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  2. Slept under the plankings of old boats on Brighton Beach back in dem day..Cool stuff I like this greatly

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  3. lovely poem. takes the ordinary and turns it into something extra-ordinary.

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  4. When I was tree
    I stood
    connected
    between Earth and Sky
    now I am no longer a tree
    but still
    I walk
    and connect
    with Earth and Sky
    everywhere

    loved the imagery of your poem
    the love of trees even in death
    continues to give..

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