Life in a Fishing Village

by nonameharbor / Feb 13, 2009 / 0 comments



Holy Joy On The Promontory


Johnny hauled the lobsters we will eat this eve.

Anchored and sail furled for the nonce,

Sun still warming our hair and skin,

We stretch sinew and tendon.

Mary brings cloth, crust, butter.


We slake the grape, we feast,

Retell our day: alewives, blues, foreign brown sail on the horizon.

Nod, slacken, stumble the steps to light candles.

Waves pock and fizz shore rocks below as we kneel east,

Beg blessings from the moonshined sea-of-us-all.


The moonshined sea-of-us-all, pewter and phosphate,

As the big waves climb into bed with us,

Wet our dream skulls to a seal-like gleam.

The dreamtide turns,

Awaken, we, to the invasion of fogwet horn.


Dawn: rain gear, all silent grumps

Until the hot coffee hits our teeth.

A steady hand to guide her through the straits,

Of Thee I Sing thrums, chugs again

To the open sea-of-us-all.



Barbary Chaapel - lighthouse











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