Friday, February 10, 2012

Visions of Frobisher Bay

All forms on earth
are reproduced in ice,
the craggy points, the wind-smoothed dunes,
the hanging spears like frills of fur,

the ice shines on the water
and water shines on the ice
that melts inside the eye,
where the water turns to crystal.

Men in seal suits writhe
on asymmetrical islands of blue glacier
like modern dancers on the slab

across the incandescent bay
a city of puffins laughing
and a stone-clear sun so far away.

I am part of this, their eyes are mine,
my skin is this with its fissures and canyons,
the desolate end of the world is familiar
as the pavement on my narrow walk
buckled by roots underground.

I must look gently, for the fish
must learn to become the ocean.

1 comment:

Jack said...

Reading this had a calming effect, no kidding.

Awesome work.