Friday, February 25, 2005


In the dream of the blood-sea,
slowly, slowly, Poseidon
pulling the strands within the ocean night,

Webbing all together
in a dance of lunar light
through the streaks of stars reflected.

Then at dawn Poseidon emerges, ravaged by the oceans,
his hair striated with sticking sands,
the once-proud trident warped and rusted.

His night-blind charioteering through the depths,
their onslaught of saline wet,
has left Poseidon shrivelled, shell-brittle, bloody.

Aye, tis true: he bleeds...

Not even the oceans could whittle such stagnant gore away,
and letting lifeblood was misery for a once unscratchable god;
now glimpsing mortality, crying blood from the eyes...

These eyes had been a miniature for the dance

of his domain across the earth, and the water
through which Olympia was dreamt;

Now even these spectres of memory had deserted -
and only the haul of death remained,

to clutch Poseidon to his final bed.


  1. This is an older poem (circa 1997) which I have recently revised for inclusion here. I still consider this to be a work in progress, and something of a stylistic departure. The tone is perhaps too overblown, and dare I say it, wordy! (Haha) The overdose of adjectival clauses needs to be addressed.

    Overblown... I think of Melville in Moby Dick proclaiming the magnitude of his subject matter... the whale and the sea-god perhaps being interchangeable as nodes of seeing.

  2. Made a few more changes today.

    Torched a few adjectives.

    Still needs some hard graft!

  3. From recent email to a poet friend: "I hacked at ['Poseidon'] the other day and now it's in even more pain. May need to be put down."