Looking From Oregon
(“and what it watches is not our wars"; Robinson Jeffers)
BY EARLE BIRNEY
Far out as I can see
into the crazy dance of light
there are little black eyebrows of cormorants
wriggling and drooping
but the eye is out of all proportion
into the crazy dance of light
there are little black eyebrows of cormorants
wriggling and drooping
but the eye is out of all proportion
Nearer beneath the heaving surf
salmon the young or the sperm-heavy
are being overtaken by bird’s neb
sea lion’s teeth fisherman’s talon
salmon the young or the sperm-heavy
are being overtaken by bird’s neb
sea lion’s teeth fisherman’s talon
The spent waters
— flecks in this corner of the eyeball —
collapse on the beach after the long race
from where? from Tonkin’s Gulf perhaps
on the bloodshot edge
— flecks in this corner of the eyeball —
collapse on the beach after the long race
from where? from Tonkin’s Gulf perhaps
on the bloodshot edge
There’s no good my searching the horizon
I’m of the folk another dead poet noted
sitting beside our other ocean
I can’t look farther out or in
I’m of the folk another dead poet noted
sitting beside our other ocean
I can’t look farther out or in
Yet up here in the wild parsnips and the wind
I know the earth is not holding
tumbles in body-lengths
towards thunderheads and unimaginable Asia
I know the earth is not holding
tumbles in body-lengths
towards thunderheads and unimaginable Asia
though below me on the frothy rocks
my friend and his two boys
do not look up from fishing
my friend and his two boys
do not look up from fishing