The
gray whales are going south: I see their practicalities
They
are surly the great pale bulks of hot blood, that
Rise
and fall, rise and fall, catching the wind with the sea—
Turning
over the deep cold waters!
None
of us here, remember our ancestors—this is so?
Those
that crawl the earth, they do!
“Get
out of the ocean,” I howl, try to tell them,
Time
and time again, flukes looking for rainbows—
Like
rattlesnakes trying to swim, that’s what I think of
Them;
like the birds, I call them stone clouds—
Heavy
footed creatures—they’ve taken to the sea, from time
Immemorial,
yet they do not belong here, or to us.
There,
over there, look, eyes, look, there is a skull of a man looking: these
creatures have thoughts and emotions,
Move
about with thin cracking bones, white as clouds;
Bones
no stronger than eggshells—
Protein
eaters, with erratic nerves and brain waves…
He
just stares at me, as if I shouldn’t exist; now he’ll
Write
something to the effect, “I saw strange things in
My
time, one was a Merman,’ but he’ll not scream
It
out, lest he alter his image to his comrades.
“Grow
fat and die old man,” that is my wisdom for him.
He
thinks I’m the devil I bet.
Beware
of my teeth, ha, ha, ha…!
I
saw a great squid this morning—deep, very deep
Must
have weighted ten-thousand pounds—maybe not,
Maybe
that’s an exaggeration, perhaps three thousand!
Hiding
under the weight of the world to grab me!
To
eat me—the slime, like a worm, but slow as
A
tree grows, ugly as seaweed; no wiser than a
Dumb
mule—mindless, just muddy flesh creeping
In
the darkness—he will die soon, greatness in the
Sea
Mr. Man, means long life, but death comes to us
Too,
tragedies also, our blood will blend into the sea.
We
have our wooded glens, and nostalgic twilights—
Just
like you, just different, so don’t be so snobbish.
We
don’t have fire that’s about it, but we got the sun
And
we got molten rock, volcanic emissions—so put
That
in your pipe and smoke it, Mr. Man!
He’s
looking for his camera I think.
You
are no different than a beast, with thoughts, passions
Your
horns are hidden inside your heart.
You
are more animal than I.
You’d
freeze in the ice-cold midwinter waters—turn yellow
That’s
how weak you are; perhaps I’m jealous, I’m not sure.
No
oxygen down here, just salted water for us monstrous
Beings…we
are although made of amino-acids, I think.
I
am twenty or thirty years more than one-hundred,
And
you are not the first man I saw, but I am the first
Merman
you saw, I am a wonder of the world to you.
Unambiguously
human, you’re thinking I am, and
Unambiguously
sea-creature I must be, —
Should
I submerge, before you take that picture?
You
really do not know what I am, I see that theory on
Your
face, which is no theory…I am the least of the wonders
Of
the sea, should you take time to investigate?
Here
in the ocean, we do not take sides, like you do, in
War,
there are no brawlers here.
Just
good and evil, that, which is common among all living
Things—no,
we don’t hold our noses and compromise,
Cold
minds, we are not Hitler’s here, nor without love, but
For
a few of us; no quarrels, for us it is better not to strike
Or
if necessary, strike often.
Here
I live among stones that have rolled about on the
Floor
of the sea for thousands of years, many are unlucky
They
end up, with the tides onto the bays of the world,
Along
the shore, never again to feel the brush of water:
Picked
up by man, for a wall or fence, or house—who’s
To
say, it’s all a craving passion for man to own—they love
The
tide-wash, that’s what I call it. They
make me neurotic,
The
nausea they provide just watching the sea, as if they
Were
shepherds, all demagogues?
Go
back to your pitiless wars, prepare for them.
Your
yachts—go back and hide on your yachts, and say
To
your people what great seamen you are;
Feel
our fresh air beating against your shoulders, and Drunken faces; I’ve seen many
a man fall into the sea,
Look
straight into my eyes, want me to save them.
“Death,”
I say to them ‘cold and stern death,” I whisper as
Bubbles
come out of their mouth, with blood in the
Corners: I want to be merciful, and even have wanted
to save
A
few—but I don’t, their eyes say “You have the keys to
The
reserves, to allow me to live,” their hot young lives Sinking, sinking, fates
of life, who knows what crimes they’ve
Committed
on land—they are the meanest minds once you’ve opened them up, save them, yes,
I’ve heard tales from a few of my kind, Pale Saints I call them, they think
they are the lions of the sea, and they flock around their feet, and drag them
on shore, and they wake up thinking a miracle took place. We are intelligent
too; we just do not bow to them like
Fish…
“Okay,
okay, take the picture,” he sees me “take the damn
Picture,
and get it over with!”
The
old man just stands there like a goat. If I tell him to ignore me, he
won’t. Go back to your house, your
castle, or
Whatever
you call it—shed, slow-witted man!
Go
hammer away on the skulls of your beloved friends
Your
great ideas how you’ll save the world—
Stupidity!
That is what it is, his brains are squeezed, he just
Wants
a picture to show his friends down at the bar;
He’s
got lopsided shoulders, perhaps other things
Lopsided
also—I see the sea-wind makes him shiver,
You’ve
got to move that hot blood about, like the whales do!
“SNAP!” He took the picture. Now forever he’ll be
Impressed,
at the bar talking like brattling birds about
The
Merman; I will be a inane, ridicules monster to them,
A
freak: I am who I am.
Someone
will say, some girl “Ah, sad, the poor freak!”
Then
someone else will say a mindlessly drunk,
“He
made that from shadows,” as if he altered the Photograph—I think they call it
special effects.
Shocking
green creature like me—they’ll don’t exist, then
The
old man will point on the photograph this and that: he’ll point to the starting
point of my tiny jaw, my iron gray hair—
If
only they knew my tiresome memories, but they don’t care about them, that is
what I’d like to tell them of “Waaah!”
Yes,
I’d cry out to those nasty man faces, and I’d like to tell them to get rid of
those nasty nets and all—I say, with a neurosis way of thinking, I know but it
is the only way to say it: “No offense, get rid of the nets, those nasty nets!”
It
was not always like this, no, not always, but those good
Days
are gone. More people moving west,
For
the splintered sunlight I guess.
It
is a matter of fact, I have never killed a man, and never
Will,
or expect to.
Small
squids, more meat!
It
is true I feel some kind of dismay for man, discounting Women, I’ve never saw
one.
But
whales, and sharks, and eels, can make for a concerning
Afternoon,
no weak division here: it is their happiness:
They
see all life with no scrutinizing of it;
They’re
mask in it like crabs in sludge…
So
I live, day by day, month to month, year after year, age
To
age, I talk to myself, to the moon, the stars. Even to this Man who took a
picture of me, some three-hundred feet away,
Old
coot, who’s shaking his head—yes, I’m having a
One-way
conversation with him that he is unaware of!
I
see in far-off distance behind his shed, wild pigs, no
Not
really, kids, must be his grandkids he’s looking at them
And
then me, I nod my head ‘no’ he understands that, he
Knows
I’ll submerge if he does. Let them rattle away
Into
the bushes! That’s what I say. Talking, talking, I feel
I’m
spinning a web, and he thinks he’s dreaming.
Woops,
I get the first grin stirring at me,
I
want to tell him to ram that grin up his nose! But I would.
He’s
just really a pile of bones, old rat pile of bones,
With
a fat belly, a foul bulk rolling belly,
He
won’t have time to have old memories of me—
Blue
sweater, like the sea!
An
invisible fire is in his eyes, not sure what they say,
But
should I follow my intuition, I’d submerge,
They
want to talk to me: My soul can hardly resist, should I? What do you think? Guess, if I will or will
not?
His
fists are clinched, he wants to growl,
Swim
out and deep into the sea with me,
And
I’m only knee high in the water for him.
I
crawl up nearly onto the bank, catch my breath,
I’m
not sure how long I can remain out here,
This
has been the longest of times for me—
I
feel like hissing, but I had to—I mean, I’ve always wanted to
One
time, just one time, see how long I’d last,
Notice
the terrible sameness, these men put up with.
Perhaps
even talk to one: what’s intuition anyways!
I
could drag his old bones out to sea,
Down
into the dark Chasms!
Then
he’d have something to talk about.
Seize
him, crush his bones. I get terrified
just thinking
About
me doing it: he’s shaking his head for me not to go!
I
don’t want an audience.
At
the same time, this is somewhat interesting.
Perhaps
he thinks he’ll snatch me, not in a thousand
Years,
unless he is a lunatic, and has a fit, I’ll jump
Backwards—but
I can’t take him down,
My
heart’s not in it…
He
glances at me awkwardly, like a lizard—
Sneaking
up closer: foot by foot!
I
used to take some pride in showing off,
I
was younger back than, burning with sickness
And
show myself to the sailors, and they’d yell
“Look
over yonder!”
That
was when I moved to the deep-sea depths:
To
get away from all that foolishness!…
My
roots go back ten-centuries.
If
he wants to live like me, he’s crazy; I live in a king’s
Graveyard,
sprayed out from end to end
With
unmoving nights, lest a cadaverous creature
Detect
my sudden coming—
Thus,
comes cringing stages, and lack of sleep
In
hushed old caves—
There
I sink into silence, cross my fins, hope my world
Doesn’t
end, that some shark or eel or similar foe
Find
my dingy underground room.
I
live where my unremembered ancestral have lived.
Yes
Mr. Man, on one hand it is a miserable life, in the sea,
Clutches
at my sleep, but like your greed and wars
And
stories you like to boast about…
We
stand and survive in our own putrid environments:
“Don’t
ask a question please!” He wiggled a finger;
Now
he looks at his watch.
I
wait here, why?
Should
I talk to him, I know several languages,
Even
his English and his wife’s Spanish…
She
looks Spanish,
I’ve
seen her in the window several times,
She’s
younger than he, calm as winter.
Yes,
I’ve come up now and then, she’s seen me I bet,
Respected
me, said nothing, otherwise he’d not be so
Surprised—ten
years I’ve watched her, no, it’s been twelve!
Did
I say I never saw a woman?
I
forgot I have, a shadow, she’s just a shadow though.
“Woe,
woe, woe!” cries the seagulls in the wind overhead.
I
hear my belly, it growls, sick from that sour squid.
There
she peeks out the window:
Take
him, she says, take him away s I can live in peace—
I
can’t read her lips, but if I were her, I’d be saying that,
The
old coot, ram rod coot.
He’s
a punishment for her, that’s what I say.
I
wonder if she’d marry me.
They
marry I guess, not like us in the sea.
The
dogs behind the house, howl,
Playing
with the children, they seem to be on the edge;
I
wonder what’s happening way back there.
She’s
gone from the window now, I suppose she’s
Wondering
too…kick them with a shoe!
Theories,
he’s still on theories, whimpering, whining, Mumbling, and groaning for me to
take him down;
Almost
praying…a feeble-minded old man,
With
sagging flesh, that even the falcons would get tart from!
Married
to a pretty wench!
His
legs are swollen; he’s a hundred feet from me now.
The
sky has changed.
He
has some lunatic theory—he’s talking away, as if
Talking
to his ear—
I’m
starting to cringe, claw my flesh, I should flee—
I’m
getting goose bumps, if you know what I mean
Something’s
stirring?
He
thinks he’s penetrated a mystery, he has a chilly
Intellect,
I can say that, it’s getting hard for me to cope here!
My
mind’s goes suddenly white,
I
drop to my knees, and I’m on sand, he has dragged me onto Sand, what’s he
intending to do? What happened?
I
stare up, amazed, I feel as if I was struck by a baseball bat.
He’s
torn off my arm; I’ll never be able to swim.
Blood
is pouring out of me.
The
woman is waving behind me,
How
did she get her so quick?
The
dogs and kids are running down to see.
“No,
now think, think straight!”
I’m
really going to die, he thinks he can—
The
cold blooded Beast!
I
cry out, “Help!”
His
whisper follows that, “It was an accident,” liar,
He
just wants me to be calm, for the children.
He
overturns me like an infant, a tossing fish!
I
bellow out, “Help! Please help…!”
The
blind mindless, old coot—what’s he up to.
He
thinks I’m a demon, no just an odd creature.
He’s
tying my other hand around my waist,
With
his twisted shirt, “Accident,” he repeats,
Then
why is he doing what he is doing?
He’s
taking another picture of me, for god’s sake,
What
is his problem…his game?
Blackness,
I’m feeling the dark power moving over me,
I’m
falling into a deeper dread, I’ll tumble into death
I
know that now.
Again,
my sight gets better, but blood is all underneath me,
My
blood: I gave him what he wanted, a smile, a moment,
A
picture, and now we are old enemies.
My
heart bangs with terror.
He’s
just standing there, his wife calm as winter, mindless Too; he never did want
to go down to the chasm below,
He
is feeling joy for his capture—he will boast this evening.
He’ll
be in the paper tomorrow.
I
am his animal, his prize, his fish.
They
are enjoying my obliteration!
“Poor,
creature,” I hear one of the kids say,
He
whispers back to the child:
“He
had an accident, it was better to put him out of his Misery.”
#3351 (5-10-2012)
Note: This story has a tinge of truth to it,
Robinson Jeffers, the great poet, once claimed he saw a Merman, off the coast
of Carmel, California, and thus, this author, and poet has taken that as inspiration to write his, epic style poetic narration. Also, when he was in Equator, at the main
museum in Quito he saw a picture of a Merman that was seen and then drawn, and
documented, again, off the California
Coast, sometime during the 1920s, and when the author was in Malta, he heard stories of them likewise dating back
to the 14th Century, seen by
folks living in a large mammoth cave like quarters: a kind of gypsy people of
those far-off days. Thus, again, legend
keeps coming up, and so this his extraction from all these experiences, and encounters
in his travels.
