Thursday, 11 August 2011

Big Log, Brighton Beach

My story is deep rivulets and currents.

Never will you know me: desert

blue and silver sand untwigged me.

I have no sap left for insects;

no pith will ooze your palm. No.

I toppled long ago and now you rest

soft meat here – talk and chew, talk, chew;

not knowing what you do.

Lay hands on me and feel my deeper scars

fleshed with aeons – dead – and yet,

like all illuminated souls,

waiting for my sea of resurrection.


  1. Ashes to ashes and trees to sea.

  2. Slept under the plankings of old boats on Brighton Beach back in dem day..Cool stuff I like this greatly

  3. lovely poem. takes the ordinary and turns it into something extra-ordinary.

  4. When I was tree
    I stood
    between Earth and Sky
    now I am no longer a tree
    but still
    I walk
    and connect
    with Earth and Sky

    loved the imagery of your poem
    the love of trees even in death
    continues to give..