Within the Wave

It mounts at sea, a concave wall
Down-ribbed with shine,
And pushes forward, building tall
Its steep incline.

Then from their hiding rise to sight
Black shapes on boards
Bearing before the fringe of white
It mottles towards.

Their pale feet curl, they poise their weight
With a learn’d skill.
It is the wave they imitate
Keeps them so still.

The marbling bodies have become
Half wave, half men,
Grafted it seems by feet of foam
Some seconds, then,

Late as they can, they slice the face
In timed procession:
Balance is triumph in this place,
Triumph possession.

The mindless heave of which they rode
A fluid shelf
Breaks as they leave it, falls and, slowed,
Loses itself.

Clear, the sheathed bodies slick as seals
Loosen and tingle;
And by the board the bare foot feels
The suck of shingle.

They paddle in the shallows still;
Two splash each other;
Then all swim out to wait until
The right waves gather.

- Thom Gunn, "From the Wave"

Sucker for Cranes

On King Tammany

Weminitis tamenend sakimanep nekohatami
Eluwiwulit matemenend wemi linapi nitis payat
Wtenk wulitma maskansisil sakimanep w'tamaganat.

All being friendly, the Affable was chief, the first of that name.
He was very good, this Affable, and came as a friend to all the Lenape.
After this good one, Strong-Buffalo was chief and pipe-bearer.

---

Lappi tamenend sakimanepit wemi langundit.
Wemi nitis wemi takwicken sakima kichwon.

Again an Affable was chief, and made peace with all,
All were friends, all were united under this great chief.

Kwanio Che Keeteru!

The Soviet Revolution

The Ghost Towns of East Bloggistan

The jade slipped from my wrist
with the smoothness of water
leaving the mountains,

silk falling from a shoulder,
melon slices sliding across the tongue,
the fish returning.

The bracelet worn since my first birthday
cracked into thousand-year-old eggshells.
The sound could be heard
ringing across the water

where my mother woke in her sleep crying thief.
Her nightgown slapped in the wind
as he howled clutching his hoard.

The cultured pearls.
The bone flutes.
The peppermint disks of jade.

The clean hole
in the center, Heaven:
the spaces we left empty.

- Cathy Song, "Spaces We Leave Empty"

Go On Without Me!

Where I am, I don't know, I'll never know, in the silence you don't know, you must go on, I can't go on, I'll go on.

- Samuel Beckett

Living a Lie