One Fish A Year

The gulls bones
are rusted.
The crab’s back
shines,
the finest chromium
in it’s skeleton.
The bay is alive
and unwell
It is
a half life of existence
between shores.
I cast my line out
into the depths,
waves gleaming
with mercury and oil,
a surface
of multicolored annihilation.
I reel in my catch.
My only fish for the year.

Drinking Water

The first time we had a thirst
we blamed the heat
The sun was high
the sweat on our backs
and our heavy breath
steamed
The air was a fever
even our teeth burned.

The second time we had a thirst
we blamed the season
parched ground with deep, dry wounds
cracks in the dirt so wide
we could lower our bodies
Into the earth’s flesh
and swallow ourselves
in scorched darkness

The third time we had a thirst,
we blamed the drought
The dry wells sank
the land fell into itself
Seed became stone in the ground
The day was our enemy

The last time we had a thirst
we blamed ourselves
Our flesh was sand
Dust coated our tongues
Scabs became our lips
We licked the blood
that dripped from our nostrils
and were thankful for it,
for we did not know
if we would ever drink again.

Found

Word for word it is
A confession of love
to a surprised whole
in this primordial kinship
of unfathomable totality
without finitude
The ground beneath our feet
is a mirage
we live
in a boundless sea
I summon the hours
which are deathless and inexhaustible
to search for the limits.
Yet, I can only find
Beautiful illusions.

Water Limits

Hot springs bubble from below,
minerals from ancient times,
We bottle them,
We cannot help but
embellish the pristine.
We were never taught when
to stop
The mill will turn until the mud dries
And our children will wonder
if anything was ever pure

The water in my blood stands still

The water in my nose gives me pain

I am at the mercy of the cold

The light refuses to absorb into the earth, it beads up on the snow, like water and goes back up into the above

I sink, I stand, I walk.

My footprints will melt.

My ears are numb.

Is everything a lake?

Are we all marine creatures?

Or just descendants.

R'fuah Sh'leimah


The mild and sweet things of this world are alive,
the gentleness of animals and nature continues.

Warm, furry creatures curl up with their babies in the night
and go to sleep, thinking only of their comfort and their love.

The body is a dynamic galaxy
comprised of little beings

trying their best
it is ever-changing as it strives for balance
on the inside

A galaxy exists in a universe
like a body among a community
each individual full of love and hope

The auras and pain
that defile your comfort are known

And the universe is all around you
possessing empathy and friendship
to support you through these times

praying for your return
to the gentle offerings of this world

Liquid

My Oceanic Feeling

In the summer of 2019, I had walked out into the pacific ocean and didn’t stop. I walked until the water, crystal and heavy, was well above my head. I was surrounded by the infinite and mysterious blue world, a world in which I did not belong and could never know truly. Hooked up to scuba gear, I settled into the parallel walk that comes with diving.

My guide, Michael told me to think of the lower half of me as two large paintbrushes pushing myself forward. We passed by submerged deckchairs nestled into the rippled sand-bed. My guide pointed to them and did his best underwater shrug. My sense of distance was left on the beach, I don’t know how many feet or meters it was before we reached the reef. All I could think of was depth. The plane of the land did not exist in this space- it was another dimension- one that only knew above and below.

When we reached the reef it felt like visiting a friend at their home for the first time. I had only seen fish behind glass before. Here they were, going about their business, nibbling at the coral. My guide had developed his own sign language to communicate underwater and identify the fishes. They knew nothing of the land, nothing of the fish in tanks. They were at home, and in their own way, they must have been happy. I never fully equalized the pressure in my ears and the dull ache had become a pulsing pain. I was about to sign something when Michael pointed up. To my total surprise, we were at the surface. We triggered the floats and let the tide bring us to the beach. The waves dumped me gracelessly onto the shore and I struggled to stand.


Lisa Corn