Islands

An island is one great eye

    gazing out, a beckoning lighthouse,

searchlight, a wishbone compass,

    or counterweight to the stars.

When it comes to outlook & point

    of view, a figure stands on a rocky ledge

peering out toward an archipelago

    of glass on the mainland, a seagull’s

wings touching the tip of a high wave,

    out to where the brain may stumble.

But when a mind climbs down

    from its high craggy lookout

we know it is truly a stubborn thing,

    & has to leaf through pages of dust

& light, through pre-memory & folklore,

    remembering fires roared down there

till they pushed up through the seafloor

    & plumes of ash covered the dead

shaken awake worlds away, & silence

    filled up with centuries of waiting.

Sea urchin, turtle, & crab

    came with earthly know-how,

& one bird arrived with a sprig in its beak,

    before everything clouded with cries,

a millennium of small deaths now topsoil

    & seasons of blossoms in a single seed.

Light edged along salt-crusted stones,

    across a cataract of blue water,

& lost sailors’ parrots spoke of sirens,

    the last words of men buried at sea.

Someone could stand here

    contemplating the future, leafing

through torn pages of St. Augustine

    or the prophecies by fishermen,

translating spore & folly down to taproot.

    The dreamy-eyed boy still in the man,

the girl in the woman, a sunny forecast

    behind today, but tomorrow’s beyond

words. To behold a body of water

    is to know pig iron & mother wit.

Whoever this figure is,

    he will soon return to dancing

through the aroma of dagger’s log,

    ginger lily, & bougainvillea,

between chants & strings struck

    till gourds rally the healing air,

& till the church-steeple birds

    fly sweet darkness home.

Whoever this friend or lover is,

    he intones redemptive harmonies.

To lie down in remembrance

    is to know each of us is a prodigal

son or daughter, looking out beyond land

    & sky, the chemical & metaphysical

beyond falling & turning waterwheels

    in the colossal brain of damnable gods,

a Eureka held up to the sun’s blinding eye,

    born to gaze into fire. After conquering

frontiers, the mind comes back to rest,

    stretching out over the white sand.