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devin wayne davis
osprey
rays
of the sun, coming
through spaces between
double-stacked containers
traveling by train,
are, predominantly,
a white bird’s wings --
moving me
the cold fish
really can be a drag.
this heavy rhythm
rolls with a weight of waves; they
regularly crash
against cliff rock --
& land on my back.
cold spring
dawn, come
upon the rail;
as morning trains
continue to pull
in & out,
a freight
covers the station;
then darkness descends.
and mist --
collected
sweat drips
we’re clear.
color
blend
& complement
the sea-foam of someone’s home
has carried over boundaries:
adobe mud,
desert-rose,
clay, gray, sage
the days
catch an eye --
flat, and half-dry.
neglected
nets have holes,
so many fish
wriggle --
streak away
silver tear
in this ocean
©2008 by devin wayne davis
devin wayne davis, once called "ink (or inc.)"
in a seaside vision, has written well-over 2,000 poems; he likes concise verse.
His work is printed in many journals, including The Sacramento Anthology: 100 poems,
Sanskrit, and Poetry Depth Quarterly. He has read as a featured poet at major
book retailers; he has addressed
citizens and lawmakers on the northern steps of the California state capitol,
and has read for annual poetry events at the Crocker Art Museum.
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