"swordfish" poems
Willets cull the seawall
snapper on the grill
rock ***** swoon
in shallow lagoons
long boats pass
under quiet
palm shade
Plovers dance and flutter
handrails frayed and torn
graffiti spots
at lovers rock
frigate-birds fall
from a high
noon sun
Thatched roof on a mud wall
fish flags settle score
anchors arch
in front line march
pillar cracks form
under rust brown scars
Elegant tern and grebe
watchmen fall in cue
children play
on crested waves
whimbrels and notchers
perch above Tentaciones
Striped pelícanos
the bandits of the sea!
merchants grow
in steady flow
siblings jostle
in a tide cooled sand
Heerman gull and boobie
durango smoke in yurt
boiler shrimp
and puffer blimp
castle buckets and scrapers
under a dusk light cheroot
Six pulls on a lead line
painted toes in sand
shearwater run
in a rainbow sun
the portly mexicano
flaunts his tacos
and wares
Rooster house for swordfish
bamboo shoots and sails
broken shells
and ocean swells
rise
on the
perfect
La Ropa bay
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 2:22 PM UTC
i saw you
across the abandoned street
flushed in tints pouring out of the moon
soaked in hues dripping down the ruby neon lights
smothered in summer's cool
like
fresh strawberries
plump tomatoes
a fallen rose petal
a pinch of cayenne
no need to turn around
your beauty already pierces the dull city
with the ferocity of a desperate swordfish
watch in smug as it bleeds
so casually through
your waist to thigh
these red eyes
watching in awe as your move
effortlessly around your curves
navigating the stares into
a river of desire
rushing down the hills of San Francisco
yet there you stood alone
the awkward sore on the pale face of street
greeting the thinning traffic with a broken smile
painting the corner with your heavenly red light
Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 10:44 PM UTC
little tommy turtle booked a holiday
to the barrier reef so very far away
he packed up his snorkel and his little mask
took his little suitcase and a little flask.
tommy started diving jumped in to the reef
putting on his snorkel and swimming underneath
he saw lots of fish swimming round his face
floating there so happy as if they were in space.
then he saw some ***** as big as big can be
with lots of lovely colors swimming wild and free
then he saw a swordfish with a great big nose
lots and lots of starfish swimming round his toes.
tommy he just his little holiday
swimming in the reef so vey far away
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 8:44 AM UTC
it usually leaps like a swordfish out of the ocean
and I’m able to harpoon it,
but as of lately,
I’m stuck with pond ****
and the tuna on my bad breath.
it’s nowhere to be found;
not in the parks,
the libraries,
the liquor stores
nor the circuit clerk’s office,
I tried fishing it out of the swaps of
spitfire and melancholy
but found nothing
I tried to ****** it with an excessive
amount of trouble and ********
but found nothing
I tried scooping the guts out of myself
like a hollowed out pumpkin and
splattered it with a wet slap
against an old newspaper
but found nothing
there’s nothing here;
no spark,
no imagination,
no ingenuity
what I’m I suppose to do?
as I sit here petting the black
velvet fur of my dog,
my toes won’t stop curling,
my nails are bitten down to the nub
and the stink of aging soars past
like eagles on fire
I have nothing to write about:
no unpopular opinion
no peculiar viewpoint
no bludgeoning over
the banality of
extinction
the only logical thing to do is
head out to see some local
band at a Chicago bar and see
where the alcohol takes me
I need the ammunition
I need the fuel
I need to make
something happen
the hard days of labor have diminished me
through attrition and lack of euphemism
but for right now, no matter how
saturated I am of feeling and thought…
whether I’m
drunk on sleep,
salacious on vulgarity,
grieving with quills,
vacant of *****
dreaming of gout,
reading Géza Csáth,
listening to Sass Dragons,
burrowing under empty houses
or fixing the plumbing for the woman down the hall.
I still
can’t
coax
the word
out.
Feb 13, 2025
Feb 13, 2025 at 10:45 AM UTC
She's wheat-skinned and coarse-haired;
In a fair and lovely world. This woman embodied
Perfection; without ever journeying on a quest to seek it.
All the other girls understood themselves,
Each and every bit of them. She simply
Forgot; to look in the mirror, to be aware of her singular quirks, to be daunted by the schools of swordfish.
*In the tribes of North Africa, communities banged drums and danced to please the Gods.
"Allah, Allah!" they'd temporarily yell to foot-stampers who seemed to invoke the spirits,
Those who took breaths of transparent inspiration and truly,
And truly, lived in that jiffy.*
The entirety of her life was an Allah moment,
For she never ceased to be lit from below, and lit;
From within. Her monochromatic soul shined a spectrum,
And she was perfect, because she didn't need to be.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 2:03 PM UTC
O the mustangs stung like mosquitoes,
fast as lightning & thunderbolts,
liberators & fortresses,
hurricanes & tornadoes,
hell cats & bears,
invaders & dragons,
good grief Lord,
those mighty Gordons!
O wily foxes & quick lancers,
avengers & vindicators,
swordfish, barracuda,
some tuna, albacore.
Gladiators in the gauntlet,
zig-zagging & spitting fire,
spewing molten hot-lead,
bright-tracers in the night,
forever fighting
with their all their might,
bombing their daylights out
and into submission,
la morte, stone dead.
O they sank the Rising Sun,
'cause they had that *****
battling against all wrong
& protecting only
what was right!
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 8:50 AM UTC
i was living life on my knees when
I met JB, he was a song with a body part
in the title, a guardian, a saint, maybe a one-time
guitarist for Kiss.
(The last man to see Jesus, as far
as I am aware of, was the apostle John.
sometimes in his sleep he still whispered
“please don’t bury me, please
don’t bury me, please”.)
but JB had bowed to Baal, had kissed him,
bought a 20 dollar nosebleed from
a man with seven stars in his right hand,
a sharp thing in his mouth.
JB was not an apostle,
but he knew the knees of my heart,
gave his knees to the needy,
shoved soldiers, stared.
we spat in our gloves.
he said I have a swordfish mind,
but I have left 7,000 in Israel,
loved the oh of his mouth as the
stone rolled away, I have
met Jesus, face-to-face.
please don’t bury me.
these were the Great Days,
the First Aid: a myth that cost lives
taped us tight, and when he told me
that 150,000 people die in Britain every day
I said “instead, tilt your head forward,
pinch your nostrils shut and breathe with
your mouth; a half-sitting position with
your knees bent and head and shoulders.”
he did as I said and, later, John
put his **** in my mouth.
Reactive arthritis
affects the large joints, the knees,
causes pain, swelling,
an ectopic tongue on the floor
of the mouth.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
Yes i can swim
strokes through the sea
but the swordfish is better
much better than me
Yes i can fly
my eager engines burn
nothing to the falcon
simply done, once learned
Yes i can run
toss my legs in front
leisure to the cheetahs
three fold faster on the hunt
Oh but did you know
just how few of these?
When we left the gates
map and guide made me
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 7:07 PM UTC
Through the laden flights of pot-stewed gulls -
Deepening in red rosaries to poltroon,
Contaminated by an urgent wish,
The sun-soaked merry bandits blew.
Each to each, and, mingling with that sweaty palm,
Dolorous eyes sad-greeted the fleeing dawn.
Pancreas then, the earth-girdled Titan swam,
Anon the rising tide to stem.
Dentist the night, repair to dance-floored beams,
And rising melodiously ever anew to pine,
Sweet ***** dreaming of her saw-toothed chemise
Saw the fine end to the upstart king.
Curtains swayed against my pearly doom
Not brightly was your plainting song
Palpitating in earthly measures anew
Or seeking once more the mighty to appease.
O David, in thy glance the silver moth did live
Long dawns. An enemy of the swordfish,
He menaced us so long. And now?
Sporadic is the demise of depth!
A silver sea, or rather a sea with a fine multitude of
silver points
Caressing my eyes like toothless counterpoint to the
stately blue.
It gave a floor to a weening being of prancing gait and
measured thighs.
She smiled.
And the sea broke and roared, as ever,
and I heard it once more.
I saw too the sky, which had sufficient blue.
Cooled by the sea,
warmed by the setting rays and mild air, the body
luxuriated in perfect
temperature. She did not smile, but perhaps she did..
My body, I mean.
We came away, from there, as from all places to meet
another need.
of darkness and quiet. Foamed the elements of slaking
portions of
mysterious
substance. Surrendered to the moving body without
real life.
Borne along on a
stream of liquid desire residing in another's
breast.
Relinquishing her to a
perfect nothingness like lead or caviare.
Oh, and who awaited me? She was imprisoned
but beautiful
and I thought
quite happy. I don't think she even wanted to come
to me,
or so it seemed. But she was happier too outside,
in the waning sun.
Mainly she had been safe and free.
And there's an end of this day, which roamed
whither it would,
for I did not attempt to chain it. Now I flee it.
Apr 7, 2012
Apr 7, 2012 at 3:55 AM UTC
little tommy turtle booked a holiday
to the barrier reef so very far away
he packed up his snorkel and his little mask
and he took his suitcase and a little flask
tommy started diving and jumped in to the reef
putting on his snorkel and swimming underneath
he saw lots of fish swimming round his face
floating there so happy as if they were in space
then he saw some ***** as big as big can be
with lots of lovely colors swimming in the sea
then he saw a swordfish with a great big nose
and lots of little shrimps swimming round his toes
tommy he just his little holiday
swimming in the reef and all around the bay.
Mar 26, 2010
Mar 26, 2010 at 9:08 AM UTC
little tommy turtle booked a holiday
to the barrier reef so very far away
he packed up his snorkel and his little mask
and he took his suitcase and a little flask
tommy started diving and jumped in to the reef
putting on his snorkel and swimming underneath
he saw lots of fish swimming round his face
floating there so happy as if they were in space
then he saw some ***** as big as big can be
with lots of lovely colors swimming in the sea
then he saw a swordfish with a great big nose
and lots of little shrimps swimming round his toes
tommy he just loved his little holiday
swimming in the reef and all around the bay.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 11:50 AM UTC
The ocean is not deep
Its not a beating heart
In your chest as you sleep
As you dream
The ocean is not peace
Its hammerhead sharks
That want to eat
As I swim
But its a river in my mouth
A river of life
The transitory nature of water
You can't step in the same river twice
The ocean in not deep
A game of inches and trenches
A rock on the sea floor
And islands
The ocean is not love
It is continual struggle
Swordfish and coral reef
Beauty and disbelief
But its a river in my mouth
Flowing down hill
The path of least resistance
Reaches your heart
The ocean is not deep
A rock in a current
Soaked and worn by bitter tides
And big fish
The ocean is not truth
A rock has always been wet
Lustful for a starfish
A sea horse rides away
The ocean is not deep
There is not an ocean
Prolific Pacific or tragic Atlantic
I can't walk across
Still its a river in my mouth
You on a shore
Cupping your hands
And drinking
Drink
My love
Drink until your drunk
Drink the river in my mouth
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 5:35 PM UTC
Her hair rested on her back in a silk shift
as she balanced on the arm of the recliner.
She sat on her perch. Her dress wrinkled with time.
The radio was always on nowadays-
the names played, but they’d turned into
the hum of a thousand worker bees.
The faint spring breeze skidded in and out of the open window
and rippled the yellow ribbon,
tied in a careful bow around the tree in the front yard.
His dog tag swung in the breeze from the curtain rod.
The light caught it and released it over and over
like a trapped swordfish.
A crow flew in the open window and hopped on the sill-
a three-dimensional, feathered
oil spill in the living room.
The sunlight split its blackness
into a display of emeralds and amethysts.
The crow set its astute eye on the glinting dog tag,
took the thing in its beak,
and glided out the window with a flourish.
She watched it leave.
She went to the kitchen drawer,
withdrew a pair of scissors,
and went outside.
The yellow ribbon, now severed in two,
fell to the grass with a flutter.
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 1:01 AM UTC
A glowering beat ******
shuffles frayed hems over avenue
I, propped up preened,
through the door he trips,
to find a pew
All this, I watch
with a dour view
Down in a beanery where souls are served
coffee with a shot consciousness,
who nibble on curated cakes of ****
Awaiting liberation from these surroundings
It's a cacophony of diatribe, cackles,
Disenfranchised, dim-witted opining.
Counting,
quarter time of a song I’d sing to myself
if this woman before me would just
stop talking
over the music in my headphones;
she's talking to me from a bag of bones
“You resemble my brother at Microsoft.”
I asked, “well, is that good?”
And then she asks if I too work at Microsoft -
I detach one earplug, and spit at her feet
"I can't imagine why I would."
Crazy. We, those, who dare to thrive
like dew clung to a thin thread of spider silk;
and how we slide
down, in a moment, a little more
when the breeze of our prey,
quivers the chord
My deeper thoughts ride out
on the tip of a swordfish
dipped in fine finned fears;
from the undercurrents of this vicious tide,
to throttle the banshee that screams with eyes
filled with crystal tears,
that fall into my coffee mug
and sweeten the slake
of our bitter drug.
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 11:15 AM UTC
Pile clouds push the north ridge
liquid blue lines at dead man’s point
cane garden pool for industrious folk
verdant green tuck from the upper deck
Waterfalls heavy and head winds calm
sea deep clear at the pit cove
pusser *** pints (for the pain ****
eateries pop and glow in port
Oleander clips and elephant ears
scuppernong grape from the jester
tannia stock on dipping day
calypso calls from an improvised spot
Hammocks hung at coral beach
funjie band in bamboshay time
ficus, gallows and *** runners
flying fish on the catamaran row
Metallic crab and swordfish
soggy holes for the sage and musk
sinkers, skiffs and rollers
white squalls gust on the north bay
Skeleton art at charlie t's
powder white and breezy
shells and driftwood for the artisan heart
geckos short of the cabana
Butterflies float on violet caps
fingers cross the hummingbird bath
anglers steady under canopy layer
lighthouse sails are bending
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 11:01 AM UTC
I think I drowned today,
Swallowing water in my bed
As all the fish and trash and things,
Floated around my head
I saw the morning sun
Reaching through the sea,
Its light dulled by the leagues
Of water over me
The crushing depth of ocean,
Held me where I lie
And the quiet thump of waves
Told me of the beach and sky
It was then that I remembered
I knew how to swim
I flailed my legs, and reached my arms
Getting aches in all my limbs
But within a couple seconds
I saw with disbelief
I only sunk down further
Towards that rocky reef
And all the people, I used to think
Would pull me out of that deadly sink
Were nowhere to be found
But I knew in my deepest mind
I cut apart the rope that binds
My life to those, that stood on ground
A swordfish swam around my body
And stabbed me through the heart,
My lungs filled with blood and salt
My screams tore my chest apart
The folks in boats above me
Couldn’t hear me cry
The bubbles of my struggle
Breached the surface with a sigh
They say it doesn’t matter
If it’s six or sixty feet,
But had you been with me today
You’d likely disagree
Jan 25, 2019
Jan 25, 2019 at 6:47 PM UTC
there is one hell of a
sour taste in my mouth
may be the margarita mix
may be the swordfish
may be why i am not
welcome at my own house
may be the exit calling
may be not flying but falling
may be I need to
get out of the south
Aug 2, 2011
Aug 2, 2011 at 3:34 PM UTC
it's six am and we are cuddled on a mostly deflated air mattress
the air is cold and you smell like a mix of sleep sweat and alcohol
i don't mind it
you whisper to me in your rumbly voice
stories of steve
walking swordfish
chicken heart
you laugh when i tell you about the meatball i stole
when i imagine you now i don't see your face
i feel your untouchable safety and
wish you into tangibility
although dimensions separate us
i can't do anything but tell myself
you're right around the corner
in order to carry on
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 8:11 PM UTC
We sailed on a sloop with whiskey & jazz;
When a whale called closing time.
She sank to the bottom on a Saturday night,
So we took to the running tide.
Deep in the belly of the ocean,
We did what we could to survive,
Drank sweet water from a swordfish,
As we sang to the blue valentine.
Now everybody’s going to row hard,
Everybody’s going to do what they can,
Everybody’s going to pull real hard,
To get this boat to the Promised Land.
With a little wind and a lonely sky,
Gulls crying for the gypsy’s on the water,
We followed the clouds both day and night,
Till we finally reached the boarders.
Now everybody’s going to row hard,
Everybody’s going to do what they can,
Everybody’s going to pull real hard,
To get this boat to the Promised Land.
To get this boat to the Promised Land.
To get this boat to the Promised Land.
Song at:
https://youtu.be/Y8ERzShVxwY
Mar 6, 2018
Mar 6, 2018 at 8:17 AM UTC
awake
in unusal hours my midnight wyrm
slithers to squirm
in our restless bed his fiery head
in water
downed dreams,
almost thrashing about
magnificently
blue swordfish from harshest seas
glistening skins,
hooked
on lines and sinking pipes
tremulous thoughts distracted
somewhere
in attics, dim dusty
addicts to something other-worldly than
he / wakes earlier now
to escape prying eyes discovery
preparingly
locks the bathroom door
the faucet
sounds
the shower's
hiss rebounds, and mini black ipod
roars his secrets to classic rock,
guitar riffs to running ****
camouflage
soundtrack
star trek captain's cloaking devices
what i hear he tells me
It's all inside my own guilt,
paranoia,
dementia from mind projections
he shrills i am imagining :
the tapping of fingernail on syringe plastic...
then why barricade yourself,
all that sounds
in hollow porcelain:
steam without heat
sweat without pores
my heart is sore, and is breaking
while you are slamming
without basketball diaries
Testicles even...
To have
the courage of simply waking
if ever
Or never
at all...
*(He locked himself in the
On suite
For at least two
Long hours...
I needed to take a shower.)*
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 11:12 PM UTC
The ancient Pacific
Bellows.
Engenders.
Wind streamed waves.
Liquid Silver.
Whip and sidle.
Time eternal.
Man,
Too,
Bellows.
Engenders...
The Ocean...
Plundered.
Cod to gold.
Brazen and bold.
Pirate treasure.
***** Whale oil.
The best and worst ~
Of wild nature.
Give or Take
Thriving or Surviving.
Life or death.
Which came first?
Strings of Kelp or Nets of String?
Swordfish or Harpoons?
Archipelagos or Man Marooned
Nature or humanity?
The vessel or the sea?
The Humpback or the oil lamp?
Happiness or Sorrow?
Yesterday or Tomorrow?
A Moment in time.
Time eternal.
All of history.
Standing still.
Man and ocean co-exist.
Nessie.
Loch Ness.
Survival of the Fittest.
Paradise.
Revolution.
Theory of Evolution.
Why do Whales sing?
Why do Octopus need ink?
Why do Dolphins Echolocate?
To communicate.
Does the ocean know?
Mass larceny of the Hydroscape.
The ocean *****
Orcas in Captivity.
Global warming.
Pollution.
Sea levels rise.
Why does the deep blue oblige?
Solve the equation.
The mystery of the sea.
The ocean dies.
Like the coelacanth.
To pass extinct.
When I do the math.
In this wise ~
I theorize.
The deep unknown.
Understands.
Thus,
Perhaps.
Waves and tides ~
Do not recede in undertow.
No!
Waves and tides push forth to shore ~
Desperate to escape.
Man's impact on the sea.
To go extinct.
Like the Coelacanth.
To live again.
When
Man succumbs to...
Natural Selection.
Nature's revolution.
Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 8:33 AM UTC
Perhaps when it all comes out in the open,
All the white lies, the little lies, the epic lies,
Of how we responded to the crying planet,
All will be said in a courtroom of compassion.
The lawyers remove their heavy wigs
And plead my case of guiltiness-
“Your honor, the defendant was no more
Able to change the tide than a red ant
Among billions on a jungle floor.
He took his few tons from the planet-
He took what he needed but no more;
He attended all conservation events.
He voted to save bees and elephants,
He abstained from swordfish to save the oceans,
Avoided pesticides and toxic lotions;
He fervently supported free abortions.
And bicycled to save the ozone
(When it was sunny and not too cold).
He purchased ripe fruits from Whole Foods.
He recycled books, old boots and shoes.
He forbade polyester to touch his skin.
He kept his flushes to a minimum.
His got 28 miles per gallon in town.
He never was seen throwing garbage around. "
"Your honor, the murderers of the buffaloes
Have been pardoned by the courts long ago-
It is true, he killed a rooster and a kangaroo,
But evidence shows they were clearly confused
With no reason to be loitering on the roads.
This man is unjustly accused, and if I must say,
Writes poems about the birdsong in May.
From where I sit, the court must acquit!”
The trial continues daily, like reality TV,
But nothing seems to alter prophecies.
What good if I set myself ablaze
Like the Buddhist in the center of Broadway-
I am haunted by a future I cannot explain
Trying to live out my life without blame.
The next generations are unknowable beings-
They will find their beaches in the rising tides
Made of plastic corals and robotic fish;
They will play in virtual forests with android slaves;
With perfect teeth and perfect pitch
The genetically enhanced go off to the galaxies,
In search of planets to greedily consume,
To spread the seeds of the earth and start anew.
What can a simple man as I know of such things?
The jury gives verdicts dispassionately-
For now I’m out on bail, I’m free to go,
No more guilty than my brethren of old
Who slayed the mammoth and fantastical dodo.
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 11:49 PM UTC
If it is to be then
then let then be now.
We all dress in the dreams
we impress on the neighbours
which is
a waste of life's labours
we may as well be
naked.
I am the swordfish you wish
that you wear
but
if I really were
you'd be impaled on the nails
that hang off my cross
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 3:21 PM UTC