Poem: On a Sea Cliff

 

On a Sea Cliff

 

fugues sifts through a windy cypress,

arms and elbows branching to crooked tips,

fingers of whisper which moan to

steer the pitched sounds without greed

across rawboned, salt-sprayed flutes of wood.

the cypress lifts its pale-moon knotholes,

ornaments gowned in musical sorcery, proud

over a romp of snake-mad roots 

wheeling deep into the Earth.

 

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4/29/26 .. endlessly difficulties

10/25/25

1/30 mods

9/6  ... "dramaturge" replaces "orchestrator"

8/28 "through rawboned fingers" repalces "into rawboned fingers" ... much better sound flow.  

8/24 ...mods several hours after posting .. wild energy, hard to bring out of the unconscious without ruining the magic.  might have. 

source of poem:  barkless old tree on cliff over beach in Santa Barbara (1980's)

Can't believe my country might go to civil war over Donald Trump... This could be the end of human civilization, due to all the nuclear weapons in the USA. (BOOM) ... do I blame the universe or blame humans?  I mean, the universe made life desirable, cruel, and needy all at the same time, sowing the world with struggle.  born into it.  on the other hand, humans can progress--or be ignorant, hateful fools.

'Why cast blame at all?' you ask.   (answer:  We can't progress and overcome, if we don't learn how to embrace blame"  (? idk)