Isle of the Dead

a curved stony enclosure whose seawall gives

way to hulking cliffs--with chiseled ramparts 

akin to bottom cuspids.

standing before foldable reflections--aside from

the accelerating interpolation of sea-clouds,

prone to negatives.

the guiding intelligence of a flood cupped by an

isle that is unmet with a return.

its interior of entryways are desolate modulators

of tides.

as the two main entrances to the isle set stone

apart, the first as ruggedly cut indicators--the

second as altar-immaculatus blocks.

its baselevel of algae--fed by browning runoffs of

rain, along cracks filled with ivy.

leading into cypress trees expecting late visitors, 

with an adamance that gives an odd calm to the

out-of-place.

though they unnaturally crowd & surpass their

enclosure, with a tingle of wildflowers anticipating

them.

making a point of something, already at its most

advanced stage--withholding a shade solid enough not

to have been under a burning phos.

come the skewed vision of a boat, progressing in the

way of water.

the sea peering at the back of the void's head, as it's

shone upon.

the forward tilt of a boatman's oared tension--stiffly

even keel, with enough momentum to float to the isle.

the boat becomes sensationless...the figure in the white

shroud knows nothing else but what is about to transpire.

as if Lazarus dazedly brought to his feet, remaining there 

for all the world.

the only thing that the cypress trees can see--as take into

their shade the coffin. 

Author's Note

*Isle of the Dead, is a painting by Swiss Symbolist artist: Arnold Bocklin.