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SURFACING![]()
Sand Crab
In the clay in the loam in the top of the soil
in the sand in the molt of the sea
in the light sand the light sound of shift in the swash
zone waves break burrowing for release
in the bend of the body
I balance my current only takes me back
when seawards seawards is the call of my curve
& no turning.
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Spider Crab
Posterior
rapid, with horses
post-human, belonging to
post-nature, the powers of the body
post-political, intending to live in a city
post-landscape, to plant trees
post-anthropocene, no matching terms for
post-lyrical, a song, a dance
post-fact, anything done with legs
is only part of it.
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Ground Beetle
To be sung/clicked/slicked
Some beetles make sounds, usually scraping their mouthparts together or rubbing their legs on their bodies.
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Paignton Cockle
Shell doesn’t cover
you. Nor sky, nor sea,
nor sand. Your lift
of land. Your froth of
stone. Your pearl,
your peal of sound.
Bell doesn’t cover
it. The chink of tide
that worries you.
The chime of colour
coming into view:
scarlet, wax, star.
I run my tongue
along you. I could
wash you clean,
mother of harlots
& abominations.
Or lie you
on your back so you
don’t show. Berry,
fever, seal. Oak,
notch, cloth. The shock
of you all hidden.
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Surf Clam
Sometimes it’s hard
to be a surfer,
giving all your love
to just one clam.
You’ll have bad tides
& he’ll have good tides
reaching the high water mark on land.
But if you love him you’ll forgive him
even though he’s hard to understand
& if you love him, o, be proud of him
cause after all he’s just a clam.
STAND BY YOUR CLAM
GIVE HIM TWO VALVES TO CLING TO
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