UNDER

UNDER

I almost drowned
way back,
decades ago

survived (obviously)
but suffered
much water damage

took on
so much water
always drifting, never
an even keel

now
fear immersion, the very
thought of absorption

and here I am now
26 degrees East, 26 South,
before climate change,
incessant rain
it used
    to be semi-desert

trying to write a science fiction
tale
    about a human atomic
powered submarine
navigating a vast
unknown ocean, ocean
on an incredibly distant
alien planet
        not going anywhere but
got a title at least, that
being “Under”

writing it as a riff
on Verne’s 20,000 League
tale of
the Nautilus, whilst
exploring the mythology of
my Western and
Eastern
   astrological signs

almost drowned on
board a ship (whilst
the irony seems
exquisite, technically it
was the Atlantic
that came
for me
    and, after possible
divine intervention, simply
changed its mind

this
    on our way to a new land,
new home
my Father thought
best for us

beautiful country with
a dark, iniquitous history
about
   to get darker

and all
   through my life, Atlantic,
Indian, Benguela, Mozambique-
Agulhas

those waters
out to get me
        constantly out
to infiltrate, swim
through

my brain 
        having me respond in
ways to rational human
being can
comfortably respond

daring me
        to speak the truth
of coldness, darkness,
of the abyss

having me say things I
would not
let myself say

the text
of “Under” still not
finding its page.

AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA

AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA

the cabin I once graced
now lies
at the bottom of the sea

seems it was something
of a cursed vessel

and where I am now
this semi-desert
an inland ocean once
paleontology
has determined

in the long long view
that tingle tremble
beneath your feet
may
   at the end of the day
be a matter truly
tectonic

I almost drowned
on a ship
in sea water
         the day before
it docked in harbour

thought I could swim
just sail majestically
across the water

me being
most water
     of all the water signs

sank
  like a stone, a thing
of lead

thought wrong

somehow feel that this is
not the last
episode in
an ongoing saga

me,
and the bottom of the sea

THE ART OF DROWNING

THE ART OF DROWNING

so many people
drowning themselves
getting drowned
in this Shelley family

save for Mary
I see Mary gaunt and
icy brilliant on an
Arctic ice floe
waiting for
the last act of humanity
to play out

myself
nearly drowned
or perhaps did
so should
not be
the one to talk

but Mary your story
still haunts, likely will
haunt forever

taunting us
with the humanity that
is death
is mapped out
aeons
into the future

soon to find itself
alive
in
the heart of the machine