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My family and I went to a spectacular event,
"Whalefest 2002, in Monterey, CA.
I hope after reading this selection,
you will feel you were there too!
Whalefest 2002:
Fisherman's Wharf, Monterey
the day begins like any other
as thumbprints of a coastal village
stain the air
clam chowder in a sourdough bowl and
fresh shellfish
posing on beds of shaved ice
Lucky, dressed in raincoat yellow,
with a Marlboro dangling from lower lip,
guts the pink flesh of the morning's haul
as sparkling scales fall,
diamonds on the briny planks
tables of baleen and bone,
mason jars of krill
restrain piles of donation slips,
appendages of the ocean breeze
while eager tourists
purchase starfish key chains and
snap photos of perching silver gulls, wide eyed
the ships sail out, one by one,
toward the deep brew of the bay
past Seal Island and the old Cannery Row,
with a great mouth of rolling waves,
opening and closing,
spewing frothy remnants from the stern
rummaging the horizon for signals
of mammal breath,
cautious geysers rise to meet the marbled sky
the shuffle dance
from one side of the boat to the other
to claim the ticket-price glimpse
soaked from the quest
the day ends, like any other
ships retire to the safety of rusted ladders
and rows of gift shops roll in their nets
of plastic dolphins and sharks
the Monterey sun sheds her strength
in sherbet waves of farewell
and in the distance, old Cannery Row
shares a smile with Steinbeck's memory
copyright 2002
Whaler
Sailing against the wind,
the teeth of a master seafarer bites
holes into sea god's flesh,
his taunt ship rising to the surface
of gray-hued blood
At flank speed, he veers
into the mounting waves
testing the magnitude of his craft,
his agility. Crescent shaped foam
hangs like hoods on metal garments
of his vaulting vessel, while he
caters to the rhythm,
the rousing deep spirit beneath
Ahead, he spots the breaching luster
of whale fin, blunt edged beacon
sounding with spray
An intimate distance shields
mammal from mammel,
two sovereign monarchs
of the great ocean fold
and in the pit of the fathomless stomach
of the Baltic, lies a craving
stronger than the taste of sea salt
and stride of passage,
more haunting than a lull
in the waft of the crosscurrent
Embalming waters surround
the conquest of domain,
and for this day, each
must give way
to the humble grooming
of a neutral sea.
copyright 1999
