Friday, January 2, 2009

Mendocino Coast, 1967

By Dorothea Grossman

Inland, where the grasses and grapes lived,
we could not have imagined
the rocks, the cold clouds --
the surf that would surround us
like a headache,
and those long tubes of kelp
like noodles
from another world
where, with the music of foghorns
and wind chimes,
even the kind moon
seemed dangerous.

1 comment:

murchadha said...

Dorothea Grossman's poems frequently appear in Poetry: