Morgan Bazilian

Water on land


A small road to the sea

Grass growing in between tire treads

Sand invading its edges

Small brown caterpillars mark the end.


The rising of dunes

Deep trails up false ridges

Through tall grasses

Nearly coordinated in movement.


Wind blowing directly on-shore

The waves unorganized

Cracked rocks covered in orange moss

The sky coloured deeply with reflection.


My hands tucked-in deeply

Shoulders slightly raised

Eyes blinking quickly

And a long exhale.


The water's pronounced movement


Standing and breaking

In the face of crosshore wind.


The flags flapping, making noise

Indicating direction,

Vying for attention.


The white froth

Blown backward to sea,

Reflecting light

Creating a near inverse of a sine.


A plane so thin

Short lived, transparent

And completely quiet.


And then a break, a thump,

And a decision.

Even with the wind's support

The wave unable to meet the land.

Morgan Bazilian's most recent stories have appeared in Eclectica, South Loop Review, Shadowbox, Embodied Effigies, and Glasschord.  He
lived in Dublin for seven years.



Current Issue
Contributors' Notes

Email this poem Printer friendly page


Morgan Bazilian

Jeffrey P. Beck

Anne Bryant

Grace Cavalieri

Norma Chapman

Joan Colby

Amber Rose Crowtree

Stephen Devereux

Chidsey Dickson

Alixa Doom

Kimberly Glanzman

Jane Ellen Glasser

Taylor Graham

Alicia Hoffman

Sonja James

Michael Lauchlan

Mercedes Lawry

J.T. Ledbetter

Hailey Leithauser

Hailey Leithauser interviews Averill Curdy

Steven Levery

Lyn Lifshin

Joanne Lowery

Michael H. Lythgoe

Janet McCann on Barbara Crooker

Judith McCombs

John McKernan

Roger Mitchell

Charles Patrick Norman

Simon Perchik

Perry L. Powell

Stephen S. Power

Oliver Rice

W.M. Rivera

William Ruleman

Sherod Santos

Anjali Angelika Sarkar

Ed Shacklee

Matthew Buckley Smith on Averill Curdy

Noel Smith

A.B. Spellman

Robert Joe Stout














Last Updated: Mar 10, 2021 - 2:35:35 PM

Copyright 2005 - 2021 Cook Communication.