A Poem: BLUB

In a mind-sided aquarium,
Dad and I were talking.
70% of the Earth
is covered in this.
Surrounded by subterranean windows,
words ebbing and swelling
in the dance of elusive little fish.

Toxic

Is the pollution that comes
From not caring;
Vindicating
Is absolution
of love.
Phases of apathy mask
the fear of responding,
As below, so above.

One dolphin; a dream

One boat; a machine
One jellyfish; the wavering illusion.
And one strange, prehistoric creature
Half Plesiosaurus, half Lion,
Crazy from its containment
in the modern glass confinement.

There is nothing like the electric shock

That comes
From realizing a connection
So intense, so obvious
That it misses inspection.

DIVE IN

To the spheres of creation and

They bounce
And spread out among the tanks.

CONNECT THE DOTS;

Dogs to sea lions
Crabs to spiders
Water to air
Dolphin to human
Whale to something older
Snakes to snakes
Lobsters to scorpions
Sharks to primal power

And Sea Dragons to…

What?

There must have been

A land version at one time,
Because there is that plesiosaurus
With the head of a lion,
Thrashing about
In its attempt to get free,

Everything significant

Divisible by mystery.

Thirteen squares and a sea turtle’s shell;

Thirteen moons on the goddess’s wheel.
.

Lava Low to lighting high;

Mother earth and father sky.
Forest of redwood, cedar and pine,
To forests of kelp, seaweed and brine.

Moon pulls the blood of the womb and the sea,

in conversation my dad and me
Review the tanks with different points of view,
And where our minds don’t agree
Our eyes do…

Because we both see
The plesiosaur with the lion’s head.

There’s just no disputing
The fact that it’s there,
And neither of us can react
We just stare.
The implications of such a creature
Are so acute,
That there’s no room
For either of us to convolute.

Theory is faced with realization born,
And as I ask my father
If he believes in unicorns,
He turns and looks at me,
Half with a sigh,
But we both look up
And a Narwhal swims by…
I see realization
Dance into in his eyes.

As often happens in dreams,

The dissolution starts.
The Plesiosaur-Lion pivots and darts,
prismatic tanks pulling apart.
I want to run
But the need to leave feels bad
My stomach drops
I look at my dad
Who is now also in sections
And somewhere inside
I see my reflection

and

He and my mom and creation’s perfection

And imperfection,

Ebbing in and out

in the dance of elusive little fish,
And 70% percent of the Earth
Is covered in this,
And 20% resides in creation…
And the last 10% resides in the elation
Of the realization
Of the Plesiosaur-Lion.