It seems some Calvinist has been there / naming the island…
Sphagnum moss remembers. It recalls
/ the touchdown of each lark that tumbles
/ down upon its surface, the slightness of that weight
(from The Four Seasons)
/ Seen from the machair’s edge
/ miles of white sand swathe north.
/ The light is Greek, I’m told,
/ The green…
This page is a cloud between whose fraying edges
/ a headland with mountains appears brokenly
/ then is hidden again until what emerges
Where sea and land meet, begin there.
/ The ampersand, the join, is a fault
/ which caused jagged peaks to rise –
I prepared the package
/ for my friends in the states
/ the dangling earrings woven
/ into half moons black pearls glinting
/ like an eye in…
/ wind kissed roads,
/ unpaved with
/ coral stones,
/ must be
/ swept twice daily,
/ drifting in
/ with the salty air,
/ smells of smoked tuna,
/ drying out in…
A thoroughbred cyclone,
/ recently arrived in Cuba from the Bahama Islands.
/ It was raised in Bermuda,
/ but has relatives in Barbados.
/ It has been…
/ Is studded with mountains,
/ Seychelles lad.
/ With tough granite
/ With crude gravel
/ And with coral, your country.
/ Your country
/ Wears a belt
/ Of white beaches loosening…
The surf choruses salted ritual,
/ the crescendo of milky waves turn on each other
/ and then the shore rolls up and out…
In Malta every time
/ I look around me
/ from everywhere
/ I see the sea looking at me
/ with his blue eye.