"dorsal" poems
yesterday i saw dolphins
i swam with dolphins
their black knife jackknife dorsal-whatevers
slicing the water, scalpels into flesh,
disappearing, reappearing, disappearing,
reappearing
a herd of silent Lamborghini cracking jokes at my expense
(looks plural to me)
yesterday i saw dolphins
i chatted with an old man
who said they're laughing all the time, diving for *******
"Oh yeah, we get dolphins here,"
he might as well tell me Jesus lives there, too
or some kind of black magic came through
making these creatures appear
his nonchalance is weird
yesterday i swam with dolphins
well, saw, not swam, viewed, not caressed
but
all i want to do is see them
all i want to do is breathe with them
all i want to do is float in the same sea with them
my heart ripped to pieces in appreciation
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
Preforations percolated
by heavy waves in the salty sea
Hard exterior coral wins,
protects the lives inside of me
Friends with dorsal fins
and my polyp soul
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 1:43 AM UTC
I am going to sew my soul with the trace of your voice that trembles inside the medulla of my dorsal spine.....
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
Orcas in Puget Sound
Along the road, abandoned wild apple trees bend
with their heavy loads, dusty skirts of blackberry bushes
purpling fingers, piercing flesh
mouths ringed with berry juice, vampires all.
Along San Juan Island salmon leap clear
out of the briny water, just yards ahead of their predators,
Orcas, dorsal fins curving shiny black, sluicing and slicing
the surface like sharpened knives
They have bred with one another for 10,000 years
trolled these waters through famine, earthquakes, world wars
through shifting continents, glacial avalanches,
through the extinction of whole civilizations.
Standing on a cliff, my daughter and I
watch the Orcas churning the water - studies in grace
the largest gem on the necklace of a great food chain
and when we sleep we too chase
the great King Salmon of our deepest dreams,
the fathers we lost, the currents that bear along children
Translucent jellyfish, palm sized, breath below
sideways exhale, convulsive inhale
umbrellas opening and closing a thousand years or more
sliding through forests of brown kelp where mollusks cling
We have clung like this to one another, with my body
thrown over hers for protection and her exhaling away from me
If Mama Orca keeps her young close, so will I
If there are salmon to chase and harbor seals to command, so we will
Arcing in the late August sky
slapping and parting the surface, over and over
the whales, lords of the Sound, swim in our brains as we sleep
sparkle against blackening waters
You are of my body from my body cleaving there for 10,000 years
Whatever quarrels there are on land vaporize
In the presence of these creatures,
arcing against all that is temporal, vicious, small,
studies in power and grace
The tide pulls out, skimming across rocks and oysters in their muddy beds
But this need to care for you remains as big as an Orca
your appetite for adventure as voracious
and I watch you, my child, disappearing with summer
into high school, into womanhood, into
the salty, light-dappled ocean
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 4:15 PM UTC
Hold it!
whole ***
whale fitting
room
bowing walls
expanding spandex
seams stretched out of shape
lurid –
disturbed images play across the screen
biggest loser season MCMXVII
American dream with heavy cream
and spleenwiches
cleaning the crumbs,
bums long for an extra morsel
gnawing on dorsal fins
grinning, toothless, at least they have their figures
that figures says the emaciated diet queen
leave it to the homeless to be the only group
worthy of the runway –
starvation date
only the grumbling cuts the uncomfortable silence
empty bellies howl for nourishment
instead are fed meds and red licorice
which is immediately vomited
for fear of caloric inconsistency –
breathing adds blubber
to thighs and midriffs
marital spiff over the last cookie
sugar substitutes
substituting themselves for love and compassion
lashing out at the one above
fat girls with teary eyes cry
for just five more pounds
the dress fit in 1978 –
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC
Our trajectory is unknowable, you tell me: the planet
corkscrews around the Sun, sure,
but the Sun corkscrews around a black hole at
the heart of the Milky Way,
and our whole galaxy travels on some mysterious,
incalculable vector. But sister, I saw a photograph
in which two whale sharks were brought to
heel by men in simple reed boats just
off the coast of the Philippines. All that they had
to do was often feed
the sharks many gallons of grocery-store frozen
shrimp, poured from plastic garbage bags into
their yawning six-foot maws to portside.
Gargantuan, sure, but still
as obedient and eager for food as backyard
squirrels. I remembered a grainy
internet video—I saw it probably seven or
eight years back—in which
a captured whale shark was winched
ashore in Madagascar, or
maybe it was the Philippines again—no matter—
the thing still had life left
in it and struggled to breathe while a crowd of
people gathered around—there were
women carrying babies, girls holding baskets atop
their heads—and then the
men came with a long slender blade and sliced clean
through the whale’s spine, vivisected it
right there on the dock, and the onlookers stood there quite
unfazed—I remember
being shocked at the effortlessness of the cut,
the pinkness of the whale’s blood,
and the boredom in the onlookers’ eyes. Our father
took us down to San Antonio
on one of his business trips there when we were five
or six—I think
you were probably too young to
remember it—
it was when you and I saw the ocean for the first
time. We drove down to the Gulf
of Mexico, and we saw waves breaking
out near the horizon in pale
sunlight. I kept scanning for a dorsal
fin off beyond
the breakers, thinking that I might spot one—
sandy brown, mottled with
cream spots and glistening—so that I might be able to
say to you, pointing, “look,
sister, there is a whale shark!” Years
later we would learn
that he traveled down to San Antonio so
frequently because he was a philanderer. As
a child I believed that whale sharks
crisscrossed the ocean following
paths that we couldn’t fathom, that
their concerns were somehow
beyond our comprehension, but then
Keppler pinned down
the shape of the Earth’s orbit over four
hundred years ago,
and the lives of ancient sea
titans are sundered
effortlessly
by men with indifferent faces.
Sep 22, 2023
Sep 22, 2023 at 2:27 AM UTC
I effortless pass through water
like gliding through a silky air.
And as you all sail through life
you all sparkle with the idea
of being near.
As I am ultimate wisdom that
comes in the form of joy and play.
As the decks are silent splashes of
water all over your faces.
Then suddenly you all cry,
" THE DOLPHINS ARE HEAR"
A tingly excitement every where
as though walking on a bubbly
carpet.
Everyone congregating at the
side of the boat hoping to catch
a bit of magic.
Gasps and shrills as bounce and
burst out of the water along side
your boat.
People stretching reaching as I offer
a new hope the light of GOD.
And when they return to the shore the
story of the Dolphins like church bells
ringing travels through the town.
As everyone longs for Holy spirit they
are eager to hear the story.
As they learn about the Dolphin
that came to there town they want to
know who actually touched it.
I am the spirit that visits the holy as
I love those who are full but also
empty.
I come to those brought to the edge
who stared down the cliff
but did not jump, as they chose life.
And to those who's world said no with
all doors closed because only they can
listen.
I come to those who have lost all will because
only those let me carry them.
I come to those who are broken
as only they can be molded
I bring you many colours and inspiration
sometimes I will make you dance and
sometimes sing.
I am the Pentacost, holy Ghost and your
Jesus Christs holy spirit.
Sometimes when you swim softly through
sweet watery emotion you will hear us talking.
When you think all is lost
you find yourself praying
even though you think no one is there
I will be listening.
Feel like you are drowning grab my
dorsal fin and I will give you a lift
even make you laugh, make it fun
even exciting.
Lost at sea sharks prowling I will circle you
as I will even fend of death for as I can
also heal you.
Some will pen me in keep me in a
small tank tech me a childish trick
and manipulate.
But only those bigger than pools
more like the sea will know I have
greater tricks to teach.
As only those without plan and expectation
can ever swim with me.
As I will guide you on your hearts
adventure into the free.
We will always love and seek to guide
you as we look for you in the sea and
gather around you in the bay.
We will teach you how to channel to
have an open mind to breath spirit
through your head.
And I will teach you how to be both
the radio and the wave.
How to be father Christmas, the chimney
and the presents underneath the tree.
So if you are needing help please
look over hear we are listening.
let yourself be empty and we will guide you.
There is so much to learn from communicating
and swimming with the Gods spirit, the Dolphin.
So let us connect with God heaven and the Dolphin
And be grateful for all her LOVE.
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 7:36 PM UTC
sleepy eyes open glimpse high ceiling red wood beams house built in 1920s glance out window tree tops blue skies mountains in distance flock of birds flying east chirping sounds passing car engine accelerates inhale deep breath through nose stretch legs plantar dorsal flex feet raise arms over head stiffness in shoulder feel strange sensitivity in right pectoral above ****** cautiously examine with hands feel coarse lump growing more like nub smell moss glare down at growth protruding from chest panicky by soreness rise from bed to mirror on closet door tree stem jutting out from chest inspect dark bark like calloused growth little leafs budding this cannot be race in nervous tantrum run to bathroom suffer painful weight pulling me down clutching carrying foliated limb with arms see myself in mirror horrified stagger back to bed lie on right side branch resting on mattress breathe anxious breaths reexamine pectoral area feel sinewy roots spreading under skin across chest up neck down over stomach waist legs forget how to get home disorientated nauseous exhausted what is this flora invading me ******* kafka metamorphosis post-modern hyper-real narration without accountability jorge luis borges metaphor without mindfulness fairytale run wild jean baudrillard simulacrum psychosis room now filling with plant undergrowth stinking of earth dirt gooey slugs worms shells bugs festering climbing towards windows voracious for light warmth moisture blocking out morning sun entire body trapped in tangled twisted leafy twigs excruciating pain fright lungs gasping suffocating encroaching darkness fatigue loss surrender wake up 4 AM from nightmare scared to fall back to sleep
Mar 6, 2010
Mar 6, 2010 at 3:45 AM UTC
Listen to what I'm about to tell you,
Because this matter is very important
For it will give you great advantage on
How to write a poem
Put your right hand against your forehead,
Make sure the dorsal surface touches it
Now make a rightward circular motion;
Because your head's been aching for hours
Apply more pressure to your massage
As you squeeze your nape up and down
Then make circular neck motions—to the left; to the right
Whilst you look for the menthol liniment
And now you've found your relief formula;
Which caused you more harm than good
Because your bedroom is a jungle—
Full of mysterious creatures and uncharted places
Now open the lid and pour a little amount
On your left palm, and rub vigorously
With your right hand, and massage gently
Your frontal lobe; apply more if necessary
Now wait just for a couple of minutes
Notice that the heat is starting to permeate;
And your mind begins to take a deep breath
From its calming and soothing effect
And now you're feeling a whole lot better
You're acting like a normal person again
And now you're ready to write your poem
If all else fails, repeat everything from step one
iamthe_avatar ©2015
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 11:54 AM UTC
My desire.
To swim with dolphins, in the warm roll of the sea of dreams.
To touch their shining silky skin.
Perhaps, I could be a dolphin too.
Tossing in the tide.
To roll from the darkness into the light.
To wave at the moon with her most blessed flippers.
As congenial dorsal fin slides her way through the waves.
She frolics and plays as she scoots through those waves.
That rover, this lady of the ocean.
Flips out in jollity, as over the waves she travels.
(c) Livvi
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 6:27 AM UTC
Oh ruinous apple,
the flesh
is too much
and sweet as hell,
sweet as
chicken meat
dripping off the bone
to swim in pureed flesh
on the tongue,
oh ruinous apple,
your stem
is no longer a caterpillar,
there is no tiny butterfly
of a leaf
on your dorsal.
Oh ruinous apple,
you say
"I have grown old
and
hate my skin,"
hoping that it will finally
be shredded
and given
to my belly.
Oh ruinous apple,
you are not so old to me,
you have become
a cougar
in your old age and
the seeds
still make tambourine noises
in your ********
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 12:30 PM UTC
Ah, where to begin, take it from the crown,
And roll down the usual bump of your bouncy hairsanality,
Teasing your cerebrum with every spin,
Then quietly continue along your slender necking with a whisper,
To gently land on the heavy shouldering of your broad world,
Resting a moment to tickle loose those knots of compassion,
Move onward carefully, tiptoe to your pendant earlobes,
Grown wise from listening freely, flirting for a subtle nibble.
Lets swing over to perch on the bow of your maple cheeks,
Held up by the strength of your Ernest smile,
A spring of rose petals on a landscape of pure snow,
Alas, how the rose must envy the radiant hue of your lips,
Now, leap off to the cushion of your ample *****
Perfect for nourishing presents of unique creation,
The pounding of your heart, speaks through, ba-dum ba-dum
Half the necessary beat to a lifelong dance, till death.
Next, a slide down the concave curves, slim fitting to your flawless figure,
To carriage at your slender swinging hips,
The favorite resting place of your healing hands,
Supporting the vertebrae that keeps strong your secure dorsal,
Start at the bottom and slowly shiver up the spine,
Only to shake back down with a relieved sigh, past the seeds of life,
And massage down sturdy legs carrying you through strife,
Come to a rest on the tip of your twinkle toes,
Those shine at the end of your lily starfeet.
With hopes that they’re moving to a compass where I mimic north,
And those bright almond eyes cast their gaze through the pane,
Your visage, making the difference between my dawn and dusk.
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 11:11 PM UTC
Have you ever stood,
craning your neck to look up into the canopy
of the ancient kauri, Tane Mahuta,
while peace and birdsong permeate your soul?
Have you ever felt
the crusty spray and the satanic whiff
as the Pohutu geyser shoots aloft
while a dozen languages bubble through te reo?
Have you ever shivered
in the receding darkness,
standing in the china-white sand as you waited
for the first sunrise over Makorori Beach?
Have you ever sat
on the summit of Mt Taranaki
and eaten a well-deserved sandwich
while cows grazed far below on the lush, volcanic-rich pasture?
Have you ever experienced
that mixture of fear and awe
as an orca’s dorsal breached beside your too-fragile kayak
in the shining waters of the Abel Tasman?
Have you ever paused
atop a ski run on Coronet Peak
and reflected on the reflections
of sunlight dancing on snow and water?
Have you ever felt sorry
for tourism chiefs and advertising creatives
trapped in offices in the Auckland CBD
dreaming up “100% Pure” and “Clean and Green”?
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 2:03 AM UTC
Henry says you can’t write poems about whales.
It’s too obscure a metaphor, the biology of behemoths
Is too exact. Too much science going on.
I like whales. The smooth dorsal curves of their fat bodies
Arching and twisting towards the depths,
The salt spray of their powerful breath,
And their positively massive hearts;
They understand that they are great
Yet there is something still more awesome than they.
There’s more mystery and poetry to biology than people would like.
Especially realists. Life isn’t straightforward and they hate it.
We have some very basic, very general patterns that we follow,
But they’re far too broad to say ‘always’ ever.
Every rule, every law, has been or will be broken.
And the world will keep on turning (until the day it doesn’t),
And the whales will keep on swimming (until the day they don’t).
Henry says you can’t write poetry about whales.
I don’t like Henry very much. I think he’s wrong.
Mar 28, 2012
Mar 28, 2012 at 6:24 PM UTC
You're transparent, I'm illuminated
By your body, striking me dead
I was tempted, and I'm washed away
By some evil plans, without astray
Seeing you as a reward, making things all right
But you drained away my inner safe light
A simple stream, a water flow
A threat for my bloodstream, it's burning low
With its fake formation of devil
The water transformed and made it reveal
Like an appearance of a human being
The darkness will begin to strum the string
She's a mistress, came up and greet
I can notice abnormality in her dorsal teeth
Its a fang, used to bite me back
She always declares a silent attack
Speaking with a husky voice I desire
But her deformity was like a face on a fire
Overstepping her bounds that made doors shut
Making it spoil, leaving a heaven's cut
What can I do now?
I'm in between that water and my blood
The blood that forever be the same
The water that will always drag me insane
It's a brute energy that wraps around my neck
I'm tightly forced, I beheld the wreck
Aggressive attitude that can crumble well
Nearly I can feel the ambiance of the hell
I pray. I'm sorry for messing up
I'm escaping. forcing these vines to unwrap
I realize even fire-proof can be burned
Now I cast my full heart to return
Back from a pure white canvass
Removing all bad elements from the past
I will wash away this water goddess in my mind
From now on, I will switch it off behind
Aug 22, 2011
Aug 22, 2011 at 9:55 AM UTC
The dissonance in the air
visiting flashes sonically weaving trembling tales
of flash floods and brushfires. intertwined between and beneath
leathery scales, dorsal fins and rat tails.
Intimate whispered coded messages
massaging ear drum lines menacingly, scratching the passages, cruising through each hall.
tapping at every door.
With a gravely groan, reciting a indecipherable buddhist koan.
Laugh as you may
The moon will leave
Without a notice
We'll be without
Another day.
The dissonance in the air
leaving car crashes and birthday bashes in shambled states of stasis
smiling bits of shrapnel suspended in howling fits of laughter
smoldering hordes of children melting under summer suns
all while a paramedic belts out birthday songs
and a clown juggles displaced screws and cogs.
Disasters and dances have more in common than
dispatchers and discjockeys.
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 11:45 AM UTC
Mary, Mary,
Quite Contrary,
How does your
Hydroponic
Garden grow?
To be honest,
Said Mary,
I'm fairly airy-fairy now
And that's as contrary
As i know how to be -
I've mellowed with age
And grow lots of sage
As I'm perimenopausal
And have grown a
Dorsal fin between
My cleavage.
Sorry.
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 2:46 PM UTC
twofist head muscle: kineval.
but really iz jus 2:15
shoelacegazing in a prefab park gazebo.
texty fingertip slinger.
chase that dragon.
kickin fake jordans
in a tomb called Khufu
diffuse serial NOONSDAY scenario:
always
cut
the
pixelated
rainbow
wire.
yuh know, that
jejune
box
hero:
from alphabet soup news to
netfizzle huludoodoo,
twiddling its Neros.
V iz for silent
in the actual voodoo
that’s been silenced
with dogooder silencer.
blap.
blargh.
this is all so
hashtagical.
prolly. so
follow me.
anyway resistance is feudal, ‘cause
evil doth hearts a good fight.
“evolve?! nevar!”
quoth the flat noted, dorsal
Dept. of Unkindness
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 2:07 PM UTC
While I wait for the first raindrop
Of the day, you are there in the silence
Of the aquarium, placid, not moving, waiting to be seen.
While I wait for the elevator to open,
You caught my attention
By the colors of your body, neon
Blue crisscrossing the yellow
Tang of orange sprinkled on the dorsal fin, with linings of black
To a puzzle, a maze, a labyrinth
Reminding me of a cartoon movie I saw yesterday
While my nephew is being bathed
By my brother and his wife.
The blue tang finds her own parents
The gist was beyond that, I think:
It’s about finding one’s self amidst oblivion
When our dear memory forgets
Its own memory.
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 9:36 PM UTC
Swim to me aquatic lover
Tell me what it's like deep down
Your eloquence unbeknownst to you
I promise you will always be beautiful to me
I'd like to make a bungalow in your head
Maybe just for a while
Pack your troubles along with me
Take the burden off your dorsal
Keep you afloat
Whenever you feel like just a small fish in your vast blue perspective
Know that you have filled the space between my lungs
With an elixir all your own
Your salt water will never fully evaporate from my soul
Without you I will have to rely on air
Experiencing you was the best kind of drowning
Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 8:06 PM UTC
Something struck me out of the blue
and cut my dorsal fin
worst pain I'll say I ever knew
guess it's due for mess I'm in
Thankfully, I am just fine
next time I'll be more careful
and watch out for the fisherman's line
and try to be more prayerful
This one's not that into fish
though fish he did one night
caught me hanging out beside
the boat to my delight.
He spoke to me as if I were
the chicken of the sea
and said some things I won't repeat
but took as flattery.
So play we did and had a ball
that fisherman and I,
I must say though, along the way
the man, he caught my eye.
He shared a couple of tales there
that I could scarce believe
'bout a women who had landed
that old heart upon on his sleeve.
Before the sun had set
I felt a certain sting of pain
he said, " Ya know if you were not a fish
I'd take you out again".
"I do appreciate the thought"
as I entertained the notion,
"so put me in some salt water here
or jump in to my ocean."
"I got a funny feeling",
said the fisherman to me
"that if I were to take you out
you'd be too much for me."
It was then I got his number
I knew that line, you see
Been hooked perhaps a dozen times
and thrown back in the sea.
"The sunset's sweet and lures you, man,
I love that sugar stupor
but you're just a fast food ******
and will never taste my grouper."
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 12:50 AM UTC
desnudo
es algo mágico
al estarlo contigo
me vuelvo fanatico
de tu cinturita cresente,
de tus labios color fresa,
del universo en tus ojos,
tus viñas de trenzas color tabaco como la que crece en Viñales
y como fluyen en el viento,
hasta de tu frente y como me dice
cómo te sientes en realidad.
muestrame,
demuéstrame todito cariño.
al beber tu néctar me acuerdo
de los palos de parcha de mi isla,
una fragancia agridulce que me deja adicto,
que me refresca y al mismo tiempo
deja con sed.
tu espina dorsal transmitiendo una fuerza estable
pero aun asi muy dulce
como el azúcar de caña en los terrenos del monte en San Germán.
que rico,
que calentito este amor,
como el olor de la panadería a las 7:05 de la mañana,
todas las mañanas,
que rica y consistente eres amor.
tu piel café,
que cambia como el clima al agarrar sol,
la playa y sus olas quitandote la toxina del tequila,
el color aquamarina abrazandote tan bien
que sonríes y me pongo medio celoso.
aveces me dejas sin razonamiento,
pero me apasionas con tu voz,
cantando pasiones personales,
ideología similar a mi,
substancia genuina,
como si la radio está tocando la nueva de Maná.
oye mi amor.
no me digas que no.
ando aqui,
en el agua,
deseándote.
esta atadura, esta conexión,
revelada aún más,
al ritmo de yo verte
desnudar.
-melancholicreator
Apr 16, 2024
Apr 16, 2024 at 11:22 AM UTC
~
a taste for crab driving him mad
with the early morning’s outgoing tide
away he bobbed among the waves
like a floating bottle he did ride
for lacking a boat, he climbed on a life ring
for bait, a chicken wing and thigh
the last to see him bobbing claimed
they saw a dorsal fin nearby
some say that surely he made land again
that he’s gone home to bake his take
but i say don’t expect too much
for i think he met an awful fate
for surely what can one expect?
when a man gets a wild hair
and off he goes on a bobbing ring
with only a wing and a prayer
~
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 4:38 PM UTC
energy seeker reeking of leeks
taking a leak
streaking for weeks
freaks squeak
in bleak sneakers
Sneaking peepers
beat feet
pretending all fins were
dorsal
eating dried morsels
of old oiled kippers
flipping off
soup dippers
tripping off duped riffers
picking bent strings
singing “bling bling”
with gum-wrapper rings
Queens bring flare
ensnaring rarified misfits
quick to quip
“whadda jip” –
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
Jellyfish
How they float and fray and sting at random
A serious catch they are not in any specific way
Sporty or otherwise, directional
You jelly?
You should be
At least the bending spine know it's own winding way
With a dorsal not carried by every tide
Or captivated by the time of day
You jelly?
You should be, hahaha!
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 9:37 PM UTC