Posted on January 04, 2023 by Tim Eagan
The San Lorenzo’s mouth
Made wide by the storm
Has disgorged a flotilla
Of long-dead bodies
Into the waiting sea
Jumbled limbs and saplings
Vine-strangled trunks
Rootball hobgoblins
Broken woody knee-joints
Of impossible behemoths
And a thousand-year stump
A Sherman tank of solid burl
Rests among the ghost fleet wreckage
Strewn on a Main Beach that is now
A makeshift graveyard by-the-sea
Where we can hear,
Lifting across the sand
And above the boardwalk
The wails of mourners as they ride
The Giant Dipper
Made wide by the storm
Has disgorged a flotilla
Of long-dead bodies
Into the waiting sea
Jumbled limbs and saplings
Vine-strangled trunks
Rootball hobgoblins
Broken woody knee-joints
Of impossible behemoths
And a thousand-year stump
A Sherman tank of solid burl
Rests among the ghost fleet wreckage
Strewn on a Main Beach that is now
A makeshift graveyard by-the-sea
Where we can hear,
Lifting across the sand
And above the boardwalk
The wails of mourners as they ride
The Giant Dipper
