in the East i saw rhubarb already

last week the front page of your local 
newspaper showed orcas breaking
through ocean’s mottled skin, just off
the shatter of shoreline. the large island
and your small town. the ocean breathing
in on all sides and around 8500 
residents of that small town, gasping
and rattling in the delighted sky, this postage stamp 
of land. old growth forest cathedrals snug 
up against the soaring sides, muscled mountain 
shoulders in the occasionally thin clear air, they startle 
with emerald green alpine meadow, wandering 
off into their purple shadow valleys. a few days, maybe
a week, prior to marine mammal front page 
photographed feature, a picture of a statue. a statue 
of a man long-dead, though his name still ringing 
like bronze bell. in these scattered parts
of holy hungry ghosts roaming muscled 
mountain monuments. we enter old growth cathedrals 
and hear brown bear parishioner 
supplicating in slippered feet. the ringing
bell no longer reaching our ears, we feel it 
in the struggle of our blood. and this front page small 
town newspaper with the whales, killing, and a few
days prior, that dead man forced to forever 
sit in a parking lot. the human is an odd 
and wobbling creature, deifying killers and killing 
whales. and this statue, haunting and covered in bird
shit, the newspaper photo showed it receiving 
a cleaning. a crown cleaned of animal waste
to restore honor to the man locked in unyielding 
rigor. those birds, they can fly! and this man, he cannot 
even breathe in his uniform of stricture. this statue
is in a tiny smear of a parking lot, a calamity
of concrete, wedged up against sprawling 
cathedrals of old growth, mountains of quiet 
magnitude, monuments to this living planet. 
walk down out of these monuments, through the cathedrals
with their devout inhabitants, and find yourself 
at ocean’s edge. look into the breathing sea and feel 
the humming heart of this planet, spinning. 
statues of ore find freedom in the fires of their melting. they 
are cast into bells, their howling transformed 
into a warm hum. 

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is sunspot.jpg

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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