Poetry: Blue


            adapted from The Blue of Capricorn by Eugene Burdick, 1961

There is a place where

the Pacific coldly smokes.

Only a thin,


tendril of


Gray, dense, impenetrable,


This is my Pacific.

But it is a different place,

a different personality,

a different adventure.

It is not my Pacific.

Blue is my Pacific.

Enormous, plural,


I have heard that dying by

freezing is a blissful relief.

To go deep with bubbles and

spray and coldness about one.

This is my Pacific.

Blue – coldly smoking.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s