Creative Coping


The Prisoner and the Whale
June 26, 2009, 10:56 pm
Filed under: death, fishing, hope, nature, regression, willpower | Tags: , , , , ,

Inside a whale sits

Jonah, pondering

How many more rotting

Tuna he’ll

Stack up in the corner

Before he dies of

Stench and despair.

Not a scale can he see

Only slime to the touch

As the creature heaves

Through the Deep,

Filtering fish through its

Radiator teeth.

 

Jonah dreams out

And up, into the light

And over this rut.

cards fall on the table,

Dry, clean in the sun,

Behind the horizon,

Life’s line, noone

Can question

The silence beyond.

Always there.

Forever, back

Down fathoms and more

To our whale and

Trapped Jonah.

Never to see the sky

Split from the Land

And the sea

By the line.

There in the gut’s leviathon walls his

Murmurs sift the

Gloom for gold

But none drops.

Patience and hope

And his jaws will part

And out he’ll fight

Then float like a

Ripe apple, spongy after

The long winter store.



Havana Fisherman
April 5, 2009, 5:45 pm
Filed under: Cuba, eating, fishing, food, hope, Travel | Tags: , , , ,

Sitting on a polystyrene float

Fishing for something,

Feet soaked in salt water,

Cold on the ankles now

As the night-shift approaches,

Watching the water, hoping,

For some late luck to

Dangle off the hook,

As lovers sit, some, backs to

The sea, others, backs to

The road, always pairs

Unless a fisherman,

Solitary, but for bucket, rod

And hope.

 

He sits, sits, polystyrene

Squeaks and creaks and

Waves lap skin and vessel,

Taunting, teasing, ‘What?Still

No catch?’ They seem to say,

Those little bumps and ripples,

Carefree in their endlessness.

 

Time to go, back over the

Malecon*, home, to hunger and

Hungry Rosita, nothing to

Go with rice and beans

But chilled ankles and

Guitar strum.

 

*Malecon is Havana’s conrete wall, about 4 feet high and 2 wide, erected to keep the sea out



Havana Tuna
April 5, 2009, 5:33 pm
Filed under: Cuba, fishing, food, Travel | Tags: , , ,

Sun setting on a fish just

Caught, off the Malecon,

Fresh, clean, shining like

A newly minted coin.

Couples sitting hip to hip

On the concrete tongue that

Rims the shore’s decaying

Edifices. Sometimes a gap,

Crack or gaping window-

Frame plays host to rude guests:

Gust, diesel, dust and spray.