Penguins

I see the ocean surround me
everywhere I go.

I live on the mountain
and in deep salty waters.

There are birds that fly
both mountain air and the ocean.

Do not swat at the things that bother you
or you may break their wings.

Sometime last year I realized
my heartbeat powers the tide.

I feel I should have naturally
sensed that rhythm

and recognized it
shortly after I was born.

Maybe puberty pushed it
out of my awareness.

I placed my hand on my heart
to regulate the tides

and alter the moon’s effect
on my love life.

I removed
a rib by mistake

and broke it into a quintuplet
set of Eves—

all penguins swimming
near the tree line.


copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney

Gulls And Fishes

Dora drains the ocean
with her fountain pen
and a page thirsting for blue ink.

She thought to write an epic poem,
but her haiku contains so much more
with so much less.

Dora masters storms and strong tides,
but fails the calm
for her patron gulls and fishes.


copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney

Tangled With Kelp

My sleep is a long line of unconnected sentences
mismatched to dream images,
pushed forth by an idle, small-case god
attempting to prevent teeth from grinding
some not-forgotten, full-color shame
that fattened itself on my sugary silence,
while maintaining righteous illusions
found in Sunday meetinghouse glasswork,
based on blurry wisdom
inside a bible recently arrived
from across the salty ocean’s incoming tide.


copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney