The Sperm Whale
There is something to being on the surface of it
Lashing about in the sun and waves
Forever buoyed like a porpoise among forests of kelp.
The student of history is like a biologist
Aboard an underwater craft.
The incandescent truth pulls him through the darkness.
Many dolphins have orange dots on their foreheads
But their flippers cannot reach up and remove them.
I am a sperm whale and I rarely visit the surface
Forever compelled to dive further down
Into the dark cold recesses of the past
For in the depths of the past
The stars which are below
Shine again in another light.
The Green Sea Turtle
A Green Sea Turtle in conversation with
Several yellow-fin Tuna fish
They take the words like food out of his beak
Their flippant words a feeding frenzy
He wonders openly at their appalling rapidity
"Don’t buzz my tower with your words,
You tuna fish," says the Green Sea Turtle
A corral pool where the water gently swirls
His silent flippers churning disturb the surface of the water
And in his solitude, he experiences a gentle slowing of the tempo
A cannabinoid clarinet cadenza
A mental ritardando approaching the place
Where time cannot pass.
At base, the flounder knows that he is delicious
That’s why he must hide on the bottom
Flicking sand and small stones to cover himself
He looks out with both eyes on the world
Inaction is the price of anonymity
The virtue of the flounder’s inaction
Is Taoism in practice
He is very wise not to display his desirable flesh
To hungry prowlers
To other fish what the flounder does looks like failure
But if the flounder didn't flounder he couldn't live.