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Pacific Slope

shoals   in sparked night
real creatures crushed by
                                         
                                   heated hunter
                                              gathers me, in long stocking

pearlescent, feasting
                                              salty heat of
abalone
          stewed in derelict measure

climbed, naked, on board
                                              each body, a mosaic in sand

drift, sea rind, carapace in hand
                                              to which we, a fire

red carved, each tissue ripped from small purse
                                                      tessellated surface
          talus shade


                 in tears

Stephen Motika was born in Santa Monica, California. He is the author of the poetry collection Western Practice (Alice James Books, 2012) and three poetry chapbooks. He is the director and publisher of Nightboat Books. Previously, Motika served on the staff of Poets House from 2004 to 2017. He lives in Brooklyn, New York.

Themes

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More by this poet

to have been, instead

instead, insulted. to look, in green light. redact. can you read... the oracular, such indifference. failing in the halls of an unknown.

to have powered down. mission. some sort of cavalcade, plane flight caucus to indifference. a mission, museum, the night in the unknown. a city.

raked forest leaves, consorted with compost fires, down in steam, walked an incline, slipped to fall. the clatter of bones on buried stones, on those leaves fallen, but not as fast as I fell.

Stephen Motika

2012

Poems

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Pacific Slope

More by this poet

to have been, instead

Dispatches from Devereux Slough

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