By
the jagged rocks in the sea, and over the City of Lima, where the
sky is high—
Each
year the ocean draws closer, nearer to the shore—
By
and by, unobserved the vulture and the condors fly…
As
if, out to the horizon!
The
waves smash against those jagged rocks, and the restaurant
“Rosa Nautica”
The
seagulls, estranged, move about restless—never any indication
of self-pity…
The
vultures extend their necks, looking down upon houses and
parks, watching for signs of life to
end:
As
the sparrows and the doves walk a narrow ledge—
As
those cadaverous creatures fly high to low, to and fro, from the
buoyant ocean…
#3867 (4-22-2013)
Note: In this poem, “The Buoyant Ocean,”
unwillingly and to a little disappointment, I find myself immersing a negative,
perhaps it is not possible not to, but the vulture must eat: and I have seen
this time after time, it is real: like the sparrow, or the dove or the condor,
all must eat. This of course complicates
my soul, for I am for the sparrow more than the vulture, and you can see that
of course. Why is this? I have no desire to claim the vulture, but I must write
him in nonetheless; figuratively speaking, can one except a hollow tree? I hunger for a filled one, one that is
appealing to me, with leafage, but I have learned to accept what appears
towards the end, as the end, and in this case the poem must have the vulture
and sparrow in it.
