by Greg Woods
Went deep west into the horizon swearing what I wouldn’t repeat.
Sailors stewed and screwed never had what I captured there.
Where brown pelicans dare to wager wings to surf and eat.
Mercury and Venus cockeyed for good reason conspire.
Above black water brisk and indifferent awaiting the inevitable.
Taking helm to shepherd the noble from foregone conclusions.
Escaping what rhymes or echoes with the way this movie ends.
Away from ghosts blown back on rocks and shoals nobody knows.
Into darkness churning repeating curse words from way back.
Interspersed from top of throat with Hail Marys and The Lord’s Prayer.
Select pieces of the Post-Vatican Two Roman Catholic Mass.
In the California vernacular from memory for old times sake.
Holding tight with knuckles white from foam to bone shaking.
Blinking and leaping from foundation to conclusions written down.
Relegated to the confines of memory where lives are forgotten.
Greg Woods lives and works in Northern California, has published in Reed Magazine, California’s Oldest Literary Journal, and featured as spoken word performer at the Austin International Poetry Festival. He currently teaches courses specific to Criminology, Criminal Justice and Legal Studies at San Jose State University. Additional biographical and contact information are available at the following: http://www.sjsu.edu/justicestudies/our-department/our-people/woods-g/index.html