In the presence of sea monsters

The gracious


That clarifies the very vertical,

Almost ethereal nature of


(Accessed only  by ladders and various other aircraft’s)

And  the spatial integrity of longitude,

The horizontal cousin.

With a history of excessive longing.

These directions have similar qualities,

Consisting of  some the very same calcium,

And sharing minuscule  proponents of gravity,

 That  also define the same,

(Albeit, slight)



Stalactites & stalagmites

(Along with the number of bats, who usually prefer balcony seating)

Once the tidal waters stop rushing,

And the tiny boat,

Can cast it’s tiny line,

And wait for a  calculated struggle,

With the tremendous sea monsters

Lurking beneath,

That speak volumes to whales,

That speak volumes amidst volumes,

Those same sea monsters,

Waiting for those same lines,

Those  colorful lures,

Cast from the crows nest,

…In more danger now than they will ever know

Performing a watery dance,

Performing a diluted ballet.

For an obviously underwhelmed audience of invertebrates.

 A twirling

Ballerina spinning in shaken snow-globe,

Choking on salt instead of snow.

Trapped inside that same shaken snow-globe,

Envying the  miraculous pearls

That are also trapped, but for good reason.

To evade the jewel thieves.

The decorative lures sink deeper,

Just to go the opposite direction as the bubbles do.

To breathe with the currents.

To be with the currents.

To sword-fight with the stingrays,


Untie the shoestring seaweed that floats

In very deliberate  knots.

With only one  direction in mind.

With only one letter of the alphabet in mind.

With the Phoenicians in mind.

Like lost trash-bags.

Like floating jellyfish.

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