Afternoon has been static,
Particles frozen, in the glance of existence.
Fly makes no sound,
Sunbeam cease to defuse.
As if no future is coming,
That universe is the end itself,
Clouds depart, emptying.
Left on me deserted sky, vast vacancy,
Much sorrow under the brilliant sunlight,
As if it cares nothing.
Leaves whispering gossip,
Millions accounts of the life and death
Of things that cross our mind missing.
Much was lost, things I forget,
But not that haunting thought.
Reminding me that I,
Under the Sunday afternoon, still a broken heart.
“Coelacanth, yes, God!
Although I had come prepared,
that first sight hit me like a white-hot blast.
It made me feel shaky and queer, my body tingled.
I stood if stricken to stone.
Yes, there was not a shadow of doubt:
scale by scale,
bone by bone,
fin by fin,
it was a true coelacanth.”
-J. L. B. Smith, Ichthyologist, on identifying the specimen of Coelacanth the first time in human history
It’s not clear whether J. L. B. Smith had an interest in literature and poetry, but this account is quiet poetic to me, in a sense that the sound of the words and the structure of the sentences captured the excitement in a very rich and delightful way. I’ll take it as a poem.
*Rhodes University ichthyologist Professor JLB Smith with a coelacanth in 1953.
Lays the sun
Drunk the feet
Point the toes to the swamp
Let grasses bite you
in the freshly opened summer
Your shade leaves that agitates my heart,
As though moonlight vanishes in that thin morning mist,
Into silence, you depart driftingly.
I sit up into a pitch of dark torment,
Forgot the length of time, weakened corps aches as if the deaf hears the cry,
A self floating.
Vast, void, antithesis of eternity,
Fear now sleeps in me, surrendered to night terror with my incapacity.
What an atrocity.
Yet you assert this is reality, as I
Inhale the emptiness that permeate the uninhabitation.
You left; “morning has been blackening.”
Robin egg blue
Wintery lentil soup
Your voice in our tiny kitchen
Ash tree seeds
The irresistible moisture of your wee lips
I miss you,
And all those miscellaneous reminiscences,
My memory a daze, bygone is a future once might be reality.
The trillion molecules
Drafted from the ground, station in the air,
Transcend into heaven, we once called.
The immense, remarkable.
So light it weights as angel,
So substantial it sustains storm.
That which shadows the earth,
The unimaginable, so to speak,
Ask Kant, we call it sublime,
That trillion molecules,
The awe-inspiring wonder.
Bernard, Rosemont, Jeanne-Mance Park,
Honourable, semantic, overpass,
Doctorate, Galway, Esplanade,
The miscellaneous reminders,
Loss now the only signified,
Carefully they cut through my pulmonary valve,
Now that you are omnipresent.
The entire logos my haunting ground.