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An ocean parked in the driveway of Italy.
Seats warmed by ghost. A red buoy meant
to mark a diver. Stunted pebbles eluding
capture. Exhaust fumes. Or just to curse
the sea she captained, he says, once on
dry land. Wind rattling a window. Two broken blossoms.
Any gravedigger. The time between
spring & summer in an unsynchronized green...
in the afternoon, the sun, a gull --
or the chatter of flip-flaps along a boardwalk.
More signs pointing towards nothing to fight for.
Or a son and mother mistaken for sisters...
as dusk agrees to hide every stain...
on a coastal road narrower than accident. |
Maurice Oliver spent almost a decade working as
a freelance photographer in Europe. In 1995, he traveled
around the world, recording his experiences in a journal
instead of pictures, and he began writing poetry. His
poetry has appeared in The Potomac Journal, Circle Magazine,
Bullfight Review, Tryst3 Journal, Eye-Shot, The Surface,
One Forty Two Magazine, Word Riot, Retort Magazine (Australia),
Taj Mahal Review (India), Stride Magazine (UK),&
online at ink-mag.com, friggmagazine.com,
dash30dash.com
& tmpoetry.com.
He lives in Portland, Oregon where he is a tutor.
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