THE SEVEN SEAS OF THE HEAD
Darting motes of pisces glimmer
affixed, fractal tentacles
(in origin primordial)
burst from the rock pools of the head.
I search this surf
catching glimpses of glittering shadows in the shallows,
knee deep, feet washed
and ready to be swallowed
in that abyss of the head.
I cast my line wide from the mast-head
a faltering gaze from the tip of the crows nest
from that zenith of babel observing
the two, terrible firmaments reflecting
at the horizon meeting.
Cherish this christening! was their bleat,
as they poured the ordinary rwater
into that green sea of the head.
Cherish this sacrament! the war-cry of wine-stained lips
as i drank that grape juice
into that plaguey ocean of the head.
Cherish this communion! the rebel yell of the critical mass
‘til greener than first i emerged from that aqueous body
(now revealed a river)
into that unfathomable trench of the head.
Now those seas of the head
ring with the clutter of islands made from accumulated junk,
the wine boils in the blood
and the bends shriek in the ears of the survivors
in the life-stricken seas of the disposessed and dead.
That second firmament now opens it’s triangular aperture
through the cumulus is visible
that Leviathan, the sun!
and the multitude of fiery cetaceans
miles from their ocean home, stranded
in the dark sea of the god-head.
Within that verdant sea of my head
I turn a new leaf
and it falls to the roots
into the gnarly, twisted mangroves of the heart.
