Mystic Journey: Water
a gray metal tanker berths on grey metal sea
like a new-born cocooned on mother's bosom.
transporting tons of vital oil, it has come
from the north, and winter, east and night,
challenging currents. it was along aleutian
shores, facing furious siberian storms that
shatter human skull like eggshell that he
handed over control of autonomic functions
of his charge to the bridge. now he maps
solely by instinct (half-forgotten memories
of half-forgotten youth startle like robins
or scent of elm sap stuck to familiar palm.
endless waves of wheat starched like sunday
shirts beyond an old battered barn: perhaps
the whole world is only an endless ocean
of grain? a slow canoe ride down a slow
dreamy stream in dandelion spring- who was she
anyway? so long ago.) following the sun
along the ring of fire into the sea of japan.
there, earthquake gonged sea floor is fluid
flesh of magma, deep as himalaya, angry as hell,
hot as sin. at black hole pressure of thousands
of tons a measure, boulders big as buildings
are split open and tossed out at ocular speed,
searing eternally sunless sea to steam instantly.
creating streams within currents, currents within
streams that make even the mighty river yangtze
seem a sleepy strawberry creek*, its 20 thousand
mile cord of white lava fountains bleed, coiling
round pineal black pacific like a cobra
choking itself. the ring of fire is nucleus
where molten metallic earth meets solid air.
to there is traced the source of all life on
earth, and of all anguish in life. there,
the moody moon is unchallenged regent, ruling
all motions and emotions, every moment governing
the power of gravity, which even sublime sun
is subject to. like the black-watch bag-pipe
and drum that echo not only in ear, but light
spine and skull, the tanker's hundred miler horn
[...] Read more
poem by Doug Bentley
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