“The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore” -Vincent van Gogh

perhaps after dinner we dive-
if your willing to die for it,
don't forget.
eat, dive, die.

They taste the oxidated blades
between their teeth as they bite,
just moments before diving
deep into the sea's immeasurable
depths, savoring the flavor of
the ocean's elusive treasures.

death sleeps beneath their flippery
feet, dressed in gold and held captive
by time, in drowned remnants of
century old vessels that hold to the
ocean that buries them.

sailors stop to stare beneath the
starry darkness, telling stories of an
ocean poem that sinks further each nite,
under the weight of waves and changing
phases of the moon.

with her ways she persuades waves to
fornicate as the world turns on its side,
betraying the sailors.
the ocean pulls at its hair and the evening
masturbates at the promise of pleasurable
wreckage.