Normal thing

The sea never sleeps anywhere
And stays awake outside sleep.

Sleep is a world’s normal thing
With the normal people dying.

The sea never falls into a sleep.
At midnight ,sea is wide awake.

The sea is not the normal thing
To die from a midnight’s sleep.


God and mom

Mom’s hand rocks the cradle
To reach it to the world’s end

And return to breeze’s origin
Where begin all mom’s songs.

Mom’s garment flows down
From God’s hand hid in roof

And God smiles love at baby
As He cannot be everywhere.

Seventy Octobers

It is a point when an old poet
Went into childhood and age

And it was his October into it
Like my old age of white now

With a sea gone old and blue,
No herons praying in October.

The herons priest in new seas
As the sea is black to old ways.

The herons pretend as saints
Standing on one leg for God.

Behind are seventy Octobers
With crows chipping at a sea.

October ends year to mourn,
A dark grief tugging at belly.

(remembering Dylan Thomas “Poem In October”)


Afternoon ,the sea was calm
And mirrored  big blank sky

The hill sat like big fish nose
Jumping for periodic breath.

A grey blank shadow striated
Against  turquoise of the sea .

Boats heaved, up and down
On a soft wave composition.

Sea was just my vast canvas
On other side of a blankness.

Vicarious grief

Body is sea of eternal waves
Bearing deaths inside them

Like the upside down turtles
By the sea for natural crows.

Sea drowns its grief at night
To wash it ashore at a dawn.

Deaths come and go on sea,
Like dead children on  belly

Drowned in its belly to turn
Pearls in the enlarged eyes.

And as bellies come and go,
Sea rolls on  vicarious grief.

Baby laughter

The baby laughs off her dreams,
From dreamy air in her stomach

As we all are outside a stomach,
Dreaming beings from an earth

From whence we had all sprung.
Baby laughs from excess dream.

Her flatulence she has to expel
By a gurgle ,a ripple of laughter

With a river of tears in her eyes
From nostalgia of her fetal past.