you said you no longer needed
the words empty bottles that
washed in broke or simply
clunked their plastic falseness
as they piled between boulders
in the Playa Del Rey breakwater
their smell of stagnant water
labels peeled to inconsequence
still I can’t help myself with all
the Wild Horse cabernet bottles
lined up near a pocket window
green against white kitchen tiles
muscled white steeds on labels
like those in Neptune’s Horses
and corks in my desk drawer
to seal the day’s lack of clarity
surrounded by waves’ lap
as I walk another breakwater
under San Pedro’s clay sky
its ocean-rounded paragraphs
shaped like years as the deep
pushed concrete out to sea
along streets fallen and words
sprayed on walls that eat lies
bunkers built to trip mines
which detonate hopes locked
to wait the tide the glitter
of sun and illusions on water
salt to wash all but wounds
and dreams lured into breakers
all the chunks and fragments
of lives under glare and salt
that plastic would seem to defy
glass try to glisten crystalline
a final attempt to show magic
that it’s at least worthwhile
in surf’s intermittent whisper
before tide and desire settle
ensconced in sand or on rock
clear glass brown or green
in the glory and the power
to shatter in cursive or
keyboard into shards
or stars to sweep fragments
yet shimmer in reflection
to be carried and held
Author Bio:
Jonathan Yungkans is a Los-Angeles-based poet, writer and photographer. Growing up in Gardena, California, not far from the Pacific Ocean and at the time still predominantly Japanese-American, left him with three things—an intense love for the sea, a deep appreciation for cultures other than his own and the outlook (and resulting questions) of an outsider aware that he didn’t quite fit into his surroundings. Subsequent years as an ESL teacher and a publications editor for a multi-cultural Christian ministry only added to the latter two of these. His works have appeared in Lime Hawk, Poetry/LA, Twisted Vine Literary Journal and other publications.
the words empty bottles that
washed in broke or simply
clunked their plastic falseness
as they piled between boulders
in the Playa Del Rey breakwater
their smell of stagnant water
labels peeled to inconsequence
still I can’t help myself with all
the Wild Horse cabernet bottles
lined up near a pocket window
green against white kitchen tiles
muscled white steeds on labels
like those in Neptune’s Horses
and corks in my desk drawer
to seal the day’s lack of clarity
surrounded by waves’ lap
as I walk another breakwater
under San Pedro’s clay sky
its ocean-rounded paragraphs
shaped like years as the deep
pushed concrete out to sea
along streets fallen and words
sprayed on walls that eat lies
bunkers built to trip mines
which detonate hopes locked
to wait the tide the glitter
of sun and illusions on water
salt to wash all but wounds
and dreams lured into breakers
all the chunks and fragments
of lives under glare and salt
that plastic would seem to defy
glass try to glisten crystalline
a final attempt to show magic
that it’s at least worthwhile
in surf’s intermittent whisper
before tide and desire settle
ensconced in sand or on rock
clear glass brown or green
in the glory and the power
to shatter in cursive or
keyboard into shards
or stars to sweep fragments
yet shimmer in reflection
to be carried and held
Author Bio:
Jonathan Yungkans is a Los-Angeles-based poet, writer and photographer. Growing up in Gardena, California, not far from the Pacific Ocean and at the time still predominantly Japanese-American, left him with three things—an intense love for the sea, a deep appreciation for cultures other than his own and the outlook (and resulting questions) of an outsider aware that he didn’t quite fit into his surroundings. Subsequent years as an ESL teacher and a publications editor for a multi-cultural Christian ministry only added to the latter two of these. His works have appeared in Lime Hawk, Poetry/LA, Twisted Vine Literary Journal and other publications.
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