A Reverence to the Sea

The chanceless wind, dies on the sea-

So mellowly, it could not breathe-

Its absence - it was the "red green

Pastures" of Mallarme - the sea-green

Gold of distant greeneries, folding

So intricately beyond all abstraction

Leaving breath or soul no room for

Traction- the waves they breathed

The collective essence of foam and

Foment, folded in their intercollected

Action- the sea's connected passion

As each spire in its twirl - searching

Out the other, like fir trees slowly whirl

Merging their secret emerald worlds

In their mountain flights- synaptic - with

The azure of the heights, folding

Color unto color- as if no transition

Had transpired, for so intimately

Had tucked the fibers of the sea

The secrets of inner melding; the

Inner secret, of color into other

Color illusionarily bending knowing--

That all earth is rock, and that rock

To molten fire secretly is melting

That if an artist could harness the

Inner color nested in your hidden

Deep- free them from the haunted

Green, and the blue-gris endless sleep,

And paint them upon the mountain-

The skies it would confound them

And they would burst backwards

Back onto its rock, drip away,

Not able to handle the separation

From Gaia's clay for you have

Always held the secret of the

Matchless blue, all other paint

Becoming just the scansion

Of the residue