Tuesday, October 21, 2014


Insomnia and nerve pain have me awake. I can hear the BNSF trains blowing their whistles in the dark downtown morning hours as they transport coal and cars and consumer goods from the Port of Tacoma to points unknown.


And, as I lie on the couch, propped up on pillows, trying to achieve a minimum of comfort, her voice comes calling.


Our Lady of the Celestial Seas speaks black psalms to me. She tells me of her eggs that hang in the night sky like stars. She tells me of the ships she has shattered and left on the shoals of various countries and coasts. She tells me of wearing others like rubber suits and stealing their final breaths.


I try to gain a better glimpse of her and She inks and flees.


I lie and listen for her sing-song as She calls from the night sky, from the cold shallows, from the unknown and unseen fathoms of the sea.

1 comment:

Ada Ludenow said...

Does the Cephalopod look like a neuron, or does the neuron reflect the Cephalopod? This post and the proceeding suggest a sinuous, octopodic sort of pain. It is not cthullian: meaning slimy, or unhallowed, but rather something cool, fluid, and dare I say clean? I have heard Time called the revelator, but not pain. A beautiful piece.