Coralwerks

The fog was thick that winter night Out in the Irish Sea. We paced out a cold Middle Watch The Bosun's mate, and me...The fo'c'sle lads were in their berths The officers a-bed, Jake the mate rang our ship's bell, 'It's Christmas Day,' he said.Eight times the bell rang in the night And started the new day, Then both of us drew up in fright And Jake cried out, 'Belay!'There's voices rising from the deep!' I nodded, for I'd heard. A lantern's gleam rose aft of us, And the fo'c'sle stirred. 'Peace on the Earth, 'And out at sea, 'Goodwill to land-born hearts! 'From us to you, on Christmas Day! 'One folk the water parts!' The men and officers tu...

The fog was thick that winter night Out in the Irish Sea. We paced out a cold Middle Watch The Bosun's mate, and me...The fo'c'sle lads were in their berths The officers a-bed, Jake the mate rang our ship's bell, 'It's Christmas Day,' he said.Eight times the bell rang in the night And started the new day, Then both of us drew up in fright And Jake cried out, 'Belay!'There's voices rising from the deep!' I nodded, for I'd heard. A lantern's gleam rose aft of us, And the fo'c'sle stirred. 'Peace on the Earth, 'And out at sea, 'Goodwill to land-born hearts! 'From us to you, on Christmas Day! 'One folk the water parts!' The men and officers tu...

I draw at night Using memories of light In the hope that the sight Of my work will please.The things that I draw Every marvel, or flaw In my mind's eye I saw With joyous ease.You behold, you might, then praise. I draw more both nights and days...You share ideas, And I trap them with lines, Adding colors and shade To give them form.If my work is skilled, You behold, and are thrilled And the two of us filled With thoughts that warm.What shall I draw here and now? I imagine... Draw it how?I sit erect, Take my tablet in hand For my visions demand I trap them now.I know what I see, How can I make it be What I strenuously Trace with my hand?All ...

I have tried to love you.But you have become    little more than an evening in pale watercolors—    the shadow of Monet. I have decided to leave the lilies as they are.Perhaps in later years, with desperation,    fearing the thinness of my thin limbs,    the creaking of my spider fingers, I will go to wander those gardens again,    hoping for the promise of Eden,    clutching beads in my weary fist.For now, you are fleeting as mermaid song,    brief as tall spires in pink and green beneath the sea—    I can never touch them. Our connection fades,    a violet mirage    disappearing within the swells.A wave breaks—    the silver froth wipes ...