WOMAN IS OF THE OCEAN

WOMAN IS OF THE OCEAN

As the earth unleashes its hold upon spring,

bees brush morning with their wings.

The eye gathers in clouds of apple blossoms.

Is it a woman's desire to wait upon the land

with the sound of the ocean filling her

leaving only the fish to nourish her

during the long drought?

The whale returns to the north, toward home;

she returns south to mate, to give birth

and to feed upon the krill.

There is where home lies.

Man talks in symbols.

He spreads sperm in damp wings.

The labial fire burns and dies.

Veins carry in the eye of the storm

and the coastline of the mouth 

is treacherous.

4/18/1980
rev 7/1980
Ear to the Ground SSU Poetry Festival chapbook, 1980
 

Apple trees bloom in spring 

and the mind's eye gathers in the blossoms 

that are also the strato-cumulous clouds 

collecting in the direction of Mexico 

Spring unleashes its hold upon the sun
and the sun releases thickened sunshine
the color of honey into the air. 

The earth grows heavy with the waiting
and bees brush the morning air with their wings 

Sunshine is the blood of bees, and honey,
plasma courses thru veins of plants
and runs rivers to the sea.

Woman is of the ocean 

rivers carry in the eye of the storm
and the rugged coastline of the mouth is treacherous

The whale is always returning to the north, 

towards home 

the whale returns to the soutg

also towards home to mate, 

give birth and to feed upon krill

There, is where home lies 

Woman is of the ocean
She lies mating with the land that thrusts
its fingers into the foaming surf,
the rhythmic pounding of waves against the thigh of land

She stands alone, waiting at the lintel

for a rip tide to release her from the waiting 

for the man who may not come home 

she endures the birth of a child
who will never come

the waiting of the quickened womb 

robbed of its seed —

It is her desire to wait upon the land 

with the sound of the ocean filling her senses

and the fish nourish her during the long drought
the steam rises from the surface of the sea
and a fog bank collects seagulls and frigate birds
these fish of the air lose their way in the pollen-filled fog 

Woman is of the ocean 

Tadpoles, like sperm; swim upstream with tails flagellating 

they swim towards their own metamorphoses
round bodies capable of penetrating both day and night 

along the timeworn journey thru water

Man spreads his sperm like wings 

as he covers her with his body 

and the belly of a woman rises up
like a molten mountain range
the labial fire lights the inner magna of seed
the earth pulses and quickens and rivers 

send taproots down to quench their thirst

on that long journey to the sea

What is exotic, is distance
the pulse of steaming jungles and coral reefs calls to us 

the lushness pervades, and perfumes the senses

we always want what we can't have

it's like waiting for those exotic places to bloom in spring.

I want you to feel our pulses beating in unison
roaring in our ears like rivers
during spring flood along such symmetry
to the moist path
a rain forest of pollen, musk, and honey
in our nostrils, in our mouths
as we flow to the sea with our flickering tongues like
dolphins at play
we are bathed in emulsion
in darkness and in light

but you feed me this nectar of our bodies 

it profanes the air as we wit-hold our hearts 

and relenquish our hold upon this day