we raced home from the volcano
the all-day drizzle
cooling to graupel sheets
peeling off the windscreen
sheep and cows long since winter-barned
only stout shagged studs
watch us speed past
unperturbed by snow-blizz
patient for their turn
snowfall sundance
the gentrifying slips port side
(geography as semiotics)
where FOB and FAS once were matey
genteel lodging sidles up against F & B
free alongside ex-works
androgynes sip cocktails indoors
even as, just a slipway aft,
welding sparks fly
across the crisp dry dock
famed healer
glows in the wild
where it goes by
sylvestris
if you bring it home
to your garden
it answers
rather grandly
to archangelica
last night we chased the northern lights
meeting them, at last, round midnight
being inept to captivate
we spent a wave then bid farewell
did we all watch that movie once?
pseudo-steamy
pubescence
barely played*
perceived as porn
by certain
uptight
west atlantic
islanders
for the rest of us
there’s silica, magma
a toasty dip on winter’s noon
vulcan heat that warms the citiy
*brooke went on to better things; chris, alas, we still wonder about ….
nature requires
no touch-up
no filter
iso 200
sooc
raw
cave formations Reynisdrangar
the view eastward from Dyrhólaey / Door Island
local lore has it that
a fleet sheep
slipped, bleat
to shepherd who
abseiled to the rescue
only to both be trapped
avalanched
whereupon
beneath the crevasse
t’was sheep led shepherd
home to hearth
little bo peep
redux
coming through the gyre
antipodal 2011 