Trident Temperament
“Poseidon, god of the earthquake, launched a colossal wave, terrible,
murderous, arching over him, pounding down…, hard as a windstorm
blasting piles of dry parched chaff.”
—from The Odyssey by Homer
Nature’s glass harmonica cries
magnolia blossoms wilt
yet scent the breeze as tree
leaves hit earth then take
flight in renewed gusts,
slicing the liquified soil
like expert wave-riders
dodging foam, hanging five—
surfers’ heads slightly covered
by Poseidon’s curl—creating,
arching, holding magnificence
in abeyance as seagulls hover
above them, leading the way
to the bumpy, slick, shoreline,
littered with sand dollars, scallops,
periwinkles, abalone shards,
clams, pucca shells, and sea snails
paving dryland with vestiges
of yesteryear’s salty mollusks
and magnolia leaf exoskeletons.
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Video Caretakers
I’ve seen spoken word poets die on stage
Observed pedestrians walk in traffic
Urged on flickering senior flames to rage
Applauded graffiti artist graphics.
Since COVID hit, I’d spent more time on ZOOM
Meeting troubadours from Peru to Perth
Past always prologue informed love and doom
Shared tomes that drew tears or engendered mirth.
Yesterday ICE arrested my neighbor
An army veteran, father of five
Family—citizens—followed out the door
Birthright Americans better dead than alive.
I just witnessed another poet’s death
An ICE agent shot Renee Good— perverse!
I’ll quit Zoom but wonder till my last breath
Why real villains evade a poet’s curse.
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Derelict Inspiration
My life accomplishments
appear before me in moments
unrequested and hang before me
long enough to appreciate
boarders and minute details
that appear in short second impressions
then disappear like footprints embossed
in wet sand—deeply defined
only as long as the blink of an eye
while ground swells rise—swallowed
and erased by the ocean’s tide
advancing like a thin plate glass
window nourishing, destroying
renewing…leaving the Salish Sea
beaches cleansed, nondescript
giving me time to reflect how
flashbacks take on lives of their own
provoked by the sound of an earworm,
the smell of salt water, or flight of a heron
that triggers my flotsam jetsam memories.
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Creation’s Critics Fibonacci
C.
J.
never
insisted
that I shave
my legs, armpits and
chest or to wax my pubic hairs
I didn’t think twice
about her
body
hair
stance
that she
referred to
natural positivity
pure and pristine as
Lilith who
emerged
from
clay
in the
Garden of
Eden contrasting
her to Eve, the body shamed femme
fatal the second
biblical
account
of
life.
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Memory (Hawaii)
Palm trees bend, shake, rustle tunes that
Whisper like tiny whistles through fronds.
Your body like a floral island,
Where eager castaway fingers sink into sands
Inhaling exotic nights, exhaling rabid romance—
Eros entwined, shapes frolic, twist, turn
Faceless days advance without numbers;
Tasks continue devoid of deadlines
Hawaii I long to pierce your lusty wilderness with
Temperate thoughts, plumeria leis commemorating ideals
Perfumed breezes accelerating as
They gust toward north shore.
May the fantastic return with clarity,
Latch onto winners, losers, dreamers
Provide fanciful fodder—enabling those
Who dwell in tropical mists,
Engulfed by naked forest ferns, time for
Jettisoned memories and lost opportunities
Sterling Warner’s Brief Biography
An award-winning author, poet, and former Evergreen Valley College English Professor, Sterling Warner’s works have appeared many literary magazines, journals, and anthologies including Lothlórien Poetry Journal, Ekphrastic Review, Synchronized Chaos, and Sparks of Calliope. Warner’s collections of poetry/fiction include Rags and Feathers, Without Wheels, ShadowCat, Edges, Memento Mori: A Chapbook Redux, Serpent’s Tooth, Flytraps, Cracks of Light: Pandemic Poetry & Fiction 2019-2022, Halcyon Days: Collected Fibonacci, Abraxas: Poems (2024), and Masques: Flash Fiction & Short Stories. Presently, Warner writes, hosts/participates in “virtual” poetry readings, turns wood, and enjoys retirement in Washington.
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Sterling Warner’s Author Website
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“You get the tragedy when the tree, instead of bending, breaks.”
Ludwig Wittgenstein
As someone who has also lived a life of many incarnations. I particularly resonated with the delicately imprinted imagery of Derelict Incarnation and memories that come unbidden and linger in traces and edgings for a time.