A piece of sky has fallen into the sea,
So this must be the time.
The Sound is banded pink and heron blue
By the gentle palette of the lowering sun.
I strip at the shore of the shelly beach
And fold my clothes neat as Christmas packages.
I was never tidy in life, except in leaving it,
So they’ll know that I left with intention.
The water receives me in a lover’s embrace.
Discreetly, the watcher on the reef takes off
And becomes a black arrow, flying west,
Beyond the lighthouse island, pointing my way.
There has been a sea-change. The chop and current
That resisted me fiercely, day after day,
Pushing me always toward the
Now streams with my strokes.
I am riding blue water, crested with burning bronze.
How my body loves the sea, its element and its nature!
I swim through all the colors of memory
And I remember the water-world that is my home.
Something slips from me like a swimsuit
Whose elastic has snapped, and I am free of human form.
I am a cormorant, fishing and skimming the waves.
I play with the shapes I remember:
I am a dolphin, leaping and plunging in its joy
I am a sea-king in his chariot, plowing the waves
I am the Blue Man, tireless lover from the deep
I am the one who fell from the sky like a shooting star.
I remember the sunset road. Perhaps I looked too long
Into the black light at the heart of the sun
Because I have skipped a continent, and return to myself
On the white sand of
For a moment, I am in the body and memory
Of an awkward Australian boy of eighteen
Learning how to make love. Quickly I am drawn
Through green shadows and groves of familiar dead
To the World Tree. It has an everyday name:
Travelers from the precinct of Thoth the Star Voyager,
Measurer and Rememberer – herald its greater name.
Its corkscrew roots drill a passage to the Underworld.
Its manifold trunks and branches open many ways.
Its upper limbs are ladders to the World Up Top
Where a couple with black opal eyes help me up.
In the lubra’s opulent body I read a pattern of stars.
Her eyes shift. She is flying fox, and echidna,
And black Venus. Her eyes turn as spiral galaxies
And I find she is a way through the Milky Way.
- This poem is in my collection, Here, Everything Is Dreaming: Poems and Stories. Published by Excelsior Editions.
Photo by RM
Photo by RM