Tuesday, April 21, 2009


A flotilla of sailfish congregate
In the rainy silence of the upper basin
Each experiment with healing in 5 mph wind
As if genuflecting to the black water
Acknowledging the meaning of ripples

The determined dance with defeat
The tourists in their duckboats
Straining to see through the fog
The jogger in yellow slicks
Imagining yesterday's marathon

From my aerie vantage
I can spy 20 years of missteps
The reaching and rejection
The naivete and narcissism
The guilt of the living

That I can still bear to look
Is the paradox of survival
To live with mortality named
To know where defeat lurks
And go sailing in the rain

1 comment:

Mary said...

Good good poetry, my friend. Don't you hate it sometimes that everything is material?