New poem . . . new book
This poem and the others . . . New book coming in November 2025: more info From my vantage in the Old Signal House, I am a storm watcher. There is a woman at sea, with a named hulk reinforced by wales on either side, three stately masts towering above with castles, a carrack of caustic woad, dyeing alum, and ivory, called The Camellia: the cries of lesser black-backed gulls rise on the coast, and herring gulls scream, but she is beaten with salty fury— thrown in the downpour, her tea-stained cargo tied down with rope, lashed with ocean’s spray at the sodden gale, her dwarf storm sails like butterflies’ wings . . . No tempest shall shake her calm, deployed sea anchor, a barnacled medallion sunk from the saline bow, protects her from capsizing, the distant eyes that conceived her from the horizon, like Noah, also watch as a ship’s captain under cragging boughs of sea trees: the woman buoyed up against turning ...
