Sea Dreams

 

I gnawed at the line
Attempting to get it loose
From the cleat and let
The mainsail go.
My rigging knife had
Gone in the last gust
Along with the mast

Held now by just this line.
The mainsail was in the sea
Filling, pulling me down.
I darted below and grabbed
The old boarding axe, held
On the cabin bulkhead
As decoration, used

Perhaps during chancier
Times than this.  I hacked
The line loose with a single
Swing and watched it snake
Over the side after the main
Sail and mast, with the hope
I had of a speedy trip.

Using an oar, I rigged the
Jib with as much wind as
It would take.  I was miles
From my destination
With no means of calling
For aid.  The wind lessened
On the next day.  I was

Able to get into dry clothes
And eat something from my
Dwindling store.  I looked
In the sea and set out a
Line.  I’d need something
More if I would survive.
The sea buffeted me from the

North West.  I kept my compass
Heading with difficulty but also
Care fearing I’d miss the
Island and sail on forever
Or as near as I would come.
After the storm, the sea was
Left to calm itself.  The wind

Died and the boat rocked in
A hot sun.  I hooked a big
Eyed Scad in the night and
Then another, but lacked the
Will to cook.  I rigged the
Storm jib as an awning not
Wishing to go below, for

Unless the seas are heavy
It is best up here waiting
For a breeze, hoping to make
Some seaway, and dreaming;
For all that can be done
Has been.  I can wait,
Watch the clouds and

Look for rain,
However long it takes,
Care for all
I’ve held here   
And in the end
Hope for whatever
Lies beyond.

Something in the night

 

The light flickered through the trees,
Something behind them, a Jeep up
On the knoll, someone getting ready
To do something in the night.  While we
Watched and waited, something swept
By us from behind.  I didn’t know it
Then and Ben and Duffy didn’t hear

But perhaps they sensed a tiny bit.  Duffy
Growled.  We turned and looked back
The way we had come.  It was much
Darker then, the sundown red
Had turned to gray.  The day had
Ended.  Ben growled as well.
After countless hikes with nothing

More threatening than coyotes
I had stopped carrying a gun.  I had
My Marine Corps’ Ka-Bar and a hiking
Stick.  I fished about in my pocket for
The flash and turned it on.  No glistening
Eyes shined out of the darkness, but
Something plodded closer.  We could

Hear its steps.  Duffy barked and I
Searched with the light.  I saw
Ben’s hackles.  “Let’s keep going,”
I told them, and we moved out
Onto the river sand away from the
Brush.  Something whined, not
A coyote but deeper, more

Like a large dog or wolf.  We kept on
Down the center , Duffy on my left,
Ben on my right.  Whatever followed
Wasn’t closing the distance.  When
We got to the Jeep, I opened the doors.
Duffy jumped in the front and Ben in
The back.  As quickly as I could I took

My knapsack off, got in and closed the
Doors.  We sat there for a moment
Listening.  The night had become
Windy.  A tumble-weed climbed up on
Our hood and sailed over the top.
I started the engine and eased out,
Using both sets of headlights.  I could

Then see its shadow standing there
Watching, bigger than Ben,
Eyes glistening, dark intelligence
evaluating the night and us.  Duffy
Stood on the center console growling
Ben positioned between the seats
Whimpered in agitation.  I pulled

The Jeep ahead and turned left up
Toward the road.  Ben whirled on
The seat to watch it through the rear
Window.  Later in the night we slept
Fitfully in my study.  The wind’s
Howling waking us from time to time.
In the morning we drove back, but

The wind had wiped clean most of the
Tracks.  We found two that seemed
Marginally larger than Ben’s, but
Perhaps the wind had spread the lines
And they were merely his. I thought
About what it was, a large dog most
Likely, perhaps a deerhound or maybe

The wolfhound I saw someone walking
Last year.  Perhaps it sought company
As we fled before the wind.  Perhaps it
Was back there in the brush with coyotes
Fore and aft waiting for it to leave.  Ben
Lifted his head and howled.  From a
Mile away we heard an answer, perhaps

A howl, but it could have been some
Trucker’s air horn or a siren, but it seemed
Howl-like and we listened for more. 
Perhaps I imagine things that aren’t here,
But does Ben have the same imagination?
Perhaps I imagine someone who was here
But is no longer, someone I would have

Told about the wolf or giant dog which
We saw only in shadow and not nearby.
But it didn’t confront us nor we it.  There
Was the wind.  I would have mentioned
That, blowing the sand and weeds, obscuring
What might be back there when a night
Is dark and only the shadows can listen.

In the air

 

Life is tenuous in San Jacinto.
We passed several makeshift
Living spaces in bushes near
Enough to the road so these squatters
Can walk to the store, perhaps
Redeem a sack full of bottles,
Perhaps cash a check at the bank.

I urged Ben on.  They might have
Guns and Ben is huge to
Someone waking up to us
Approaching at dawn.  Ben
Heeds almost everything I
Say now and stayed near my
Elbow.  There is an underground

Of death here we only hear of when
Someone we need dies.  They are
Whisked away before the neighbors
know, quietly, wrapped in a curtain
Of white very like someone on the
Way to ER, very like someone still   
Living her seventy years weak but

Not necessarily dead.  It is as though
She might go and then come back,
But at the river there is a smell that can’t
Be hidden.  Ben and Duffy want to
Investigate and it is difficult to get
Them to come away.  I pass these
Bushy places like them sniffing the air.

TV, Fiction

 

They’ve written Juliette
Out of the series.  She won’t
Be in Season five.  Perhaps she’s
Gotten a movie deal or perhaps
She’s simply tired; which meant
That she dies at the end of Season
Four, and in Night Prey Meagan,

Dying of cancer is obsessed
With catching a killer and
Pulls him off the balcony with
Her as her partner screamed
Her name.  Later he believed this
Was better than dying of cancer;
Then he stopped believing.

She had looked up at him
As she fell.  He could see
Her eyes I know.  I can
Still hear Susan singing,
And don’t believe she
Wanted that.  It all happened
So fast and I watched her fall.

Dissonance II

 

Which is of course irrational,
But rationality is playing with
Objects already on the ground
And all these were beyond it
With the barest chance someone
Might intervene.  No one ever
Did though, nor would.  She

Thought he could but being
Sinful as the pastor said thought
He wouldn’t.  Moving toward
A denouement with God which I
Didn’t enter into wholeheartedly
Could I believe and reject everything
At the same time?  Did Job rebel

Or was he justified in God’s
Eyes?  Am I justified in anyone’s?
Maybe not, or maybe in a small way,
Waiting patiently at Gethsemane,
Sleeping a little perhaps but waking
At every sound, not sleeping so much
She would ever reproached me for it.

Dissonance

 

Between choosing to
Satisfy rules or being
Gentle with Susan I
Chose the latter, but I’ve
Always done that, leaving
The Corps as much because
Of rules as a desire for

Something more: not wanting
To rake gravel or risk penalties
For other absurdities. Later in
Engineering I was praised
For doing the work but
Criticized for ignoring
Rules.  Susan dragged

Her wobbly feet following as
Best she could the words they used.
They experimented and taxed
Her in accordance with them.
I lay by her bed all night while
She sang. I was impeded
By my dissonant thoughts.

I slept on the floor feeling
The goodness leaving,
Feeling the emptiness drawing
Close, not yet feeling the utter
Loss.  I felt her song wash over
Me and fade, all the while I
Remained myself, unable to sing.

The sky is a persistent gray
And I’m awash in it.  Unable
To spare the time for headaches
These past few months I’ve plenty
Of time for them now.  This doesn’t
Seem like mourning, rather a
Rejection of the world as I see it now.

Summer rain

 

The branches were bent by
Heavy leaves and the rain
Bending them further.  I looked
Down to see their path:
The ground wet, the grass
Sparse from a desiccated
Year, and there was even

Less to see if one looked
Up, the sky being heavily
Burdened with rain.  I should
Have seen this coming, and did
In a hypothetical way, not
Just the being borne down
But the needing to see

Matters yet to be explored.
The rain will become lighter,
The darkness lift.  It is
Counter-intuitive to strive
Against the sun.  Scorching will 
Come despite my resistance. 
My days will all be dry.