Waves Over the Transatlantic Cable

Waves in the green dark rising hammer
The clamor of hot continents to be still
Tendering the fierce land-fires rising until
They can unbroken go, new hard shores surprising

Mountains engorged and foam-faces running
Force and force and force the hard-rock edges
Aiming ferociously at the harbor seals sunning
On the marker buoy's ledges.

Small hums under the great quietude
Tease the green-water hard thrust
Pricking with intent and rude
Intrusions, unknowing, unjust.

The wires speak their messages unknowing
That they communicate; the deep waters
Know from all sides, containing thought itself,
Sending no message but being.

The sub-sea mountains listen, and the cables drape the crags and pass by to
another kind of place.
The one needs no telling; the other must never know.
Or all kinds of doors will open and the loops of space itself
Break in the rush of green, green waters.