Three Days a Gale

has stripped the shore of its casual 
visitors. Mine, the only footprints

on a beach polished like ivory 
by the storm. Soon they will

be howled away, too, consumed 
by the world's fast forgetting.

I embrace the beating, the irritation 
it gives, which piques the senses,

acquired tastes,
things you must lean into.

Soft-shelled crabs, eaten whole. 
The sting of tequila going down.

Or how the envelope of wind quickens 
me through my clothing.

I've heard a baby’s first squalling cry,
and the final rattle from stiff, old lungs.

Every ghost of breath carried 
by the dark namelessness

congealed far out at sea, 
that beckons us to be silent,

reaches onto shore and shreds
waves into foam before they can form,
 
a murk I recognize
because I see it in the mirror. Not

for everybody. And not for every day.
I huddle into the insular quality

of wind snapping my windbreaker, 
revel in the sand cutting across my legs.


Compound I

a low branch tending toward earth 
plump clustered bodies	heady 
with their own floral musk

drop like overripe fruit
as i shake them to my box 
stragglers bearding the edges

for their queen for the single-minded
siren-call of her one-and-only pheromones 
oh who would not do a waggle dance

all are welcome here
in the wellspring of wellness 
this captured angle of the sun

this world parsed kaleidoscopically 
patterns within patterns within patterns
and glories upon glories upon morning glories

perky little anthers seeking stickiness of stigmas
spring is life is spring is life is spring
a giddiness sprung upon the wind i had never

hummed before see how the sky 
vibrates blue into space today 
and how innocent the grass