out here on the lough all movement is vertical
wind and tide and endless sculling
keeping the shore beads constant
no passion is productive in the water
not a grain of truth floats in its religions
its philosophies are cryptic and hidden by the waves
still a fondness for answers keeps limbs moving
so siren songs and sceptical filters won’t weigh
you down and sink with you into the black depths
at least the cold relieves me from the role of observer
so when i am smashed against the lighthouse
and read the traces from the collision
perhaps i’ll understand what was removed
and the nature of what remains
sometimes i am the ocean sometimes the lifeline
today i am both so i strike out alone for the shore
pondering the negative solutions
to the squared terms in einstein’s equations
later in the lab manual i’ll see that “this is a random experiment”
is all that is recorded but i have always known
that was a euphemism for one of darwin’s wars
out here there are no borders so all wars are civil wars
and the ocean is the prize if the heart wins the head
moves to starboard and rearms with bigger gunships
if the head wins the heart submerges to port
grows a new ecosystem on the ocean floor
and sends up fronds to entangle rudders
i don’t wait around for the fighting but climb ashore
grab the coffee waiting with the chair by the window
where the sun is ready to warm my back
and i start work writing the abstract then disguise it as a poem
