Mag 305

caroline knopf crop
photo by Caroline Knopf

The ocean winks at me as I bathe

in convulsions of turquoise, fully-dressed.

Between the stones and her indigenous tidings

there is no room for my boundaries.

Her arms topple and twine,

an embrace desperate for meaning.

She is a contradiction in which

epiphanies are rendered malleable,

a requiem unfathomable

but for the bluster of illusions.

I never loved her but her paradigm

still comes to me in moments of distress.

I could have been poor and happy

but I chose the accolades of predation.

I prefer nonsense to conjecture.

I prefer nonsense to the company of masquerades.

I prefer nonsense to the trial and bother

of my own antipodean sentiments.

I dream without sleep’s indulgence

pouring my blood into the open grin of a carafe.

I am never discreet, not even in whisper.

Mine is a continent of infinite discord.

I possess and ingest myself

yet the question of my species remains.

What am I? A coffin? A whimsy?

A sheaf of undated manuscripts?

Inside where the bones lie

my sutures amend themselves in satin

and the hope, however, grim that my scars

will not overwhelm me.



Ocean-Echo-550x734Anton Semenov

 When I was four

I threw myself

Into the ocean

A beryl wraith spinning

A foam parasol

How I loved her,

A haunted mother

Who did not detest me


Sorrow does not

Defeat her

And her heart as sterile

As a needle promises

A return to innocence

That aging can not master


Her voice more pervasive

Than those within

An effacing static

That silences all who enter

Like a poem

Cast into the fireplace

To prevent its secrets

From spilling out


I had no idea

What dying meant

How permanent,

How transparent,

How tragic in respect

To my fragility

I might have held

My breath as a watermark

In proximity to beauty

Necessary as vanity

Which never is


I was prostrate

Sliding sideways

Across the sea floor

When you swept me

Currents and all into

Your treasonous arms

I don’t remember

What became of me

Perhaps I never woke up


When I was 4 I saw the ocean for the first time it was so beautiful that I ran into the waves without thinking. The undertow grabbed me almost immediately and I couldn’t escape it. The curious thing is I was never truly scared, I felt like I belonged there.




Ocean Haiku


Petulant seas press

My diaphanous heart deep

Verse from fossils traced


Dark and lyrical

Primordial currents sire

An alien harvest


Auric sky dipping

Beneath molten copper seas

Bohemian eve


Coquettish waves lick

The hull of a besotted boat

Sailors imbibed whole


Haiku for

Haiku Heights