As in Hokusai’s Great Wave,
I watch waves roll over,
before a volcanic cone.
Though these waves are
small & close,
they are perfectly rounded.
And though the distant volcano
looms large over the shore waves,
it has perfect symmetry.
I feel the roundness
&
simultaneous devastating power
of both elements at once.
waves crashing
on a rain-darkened shore
lull me to sleep,
as pelted boatmen
tug their boats inland
a rocky monolith, jutting from the sea, is smashed by waves. overgrown with moss & gnarled trees. battered brutally & unrelentingly, and yet unchanged & unmoved. birds confidently settle upon the rocks & take off again, leisurely.
waves smash onto rock. fountain spurts arc skyward. one droplet hangs for an instant, flips & drops, reuniting with its sea.
On the shore of angry seas I hear the crash of foamy waves, but miss the crisp sudsy sizzle that one hears on a sunny summer day. That nuanced note is lost to the Churn
waves rock the boat; the fisher's hips move fluidly, like rider on horse
The waves are churned to foam. The sight mesmerizes. My mind is miles from home. My seated self does roam -- chaos that surprises, like waves are churned to foam. Like one w/ Capgras Syndrome, hustler mistrust arises. My mind 's wary of home. I focus on the chrome, but my ear recognizes the waves that churn to foam. I've vagabond chromosomes, but still the thought chastises: "Your mind is miles from home!" I'm sitting all alone, and my mind surmises: Like waves churned to foam, your mind 's so far from home.
Clouds curl over the mountaintop
like waves sloshing over rocks —
a thousand times slower,
but no less persistent
in their repetitive attempts
to swamp the leeward side.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 