although they have a blind
kind of beauty,
these filaments of sea-pus.
We can see right
through them, we can scoop and spear,
bum them
in
sun,
ravel their pink and white;
we can avoid
their myriad poisonous shoals
a day or two,
so intricately deployed;
but in the end
the jellyfish encircle
every island,
ring every beach, distend
their colloid net
round every swimmer, and sting
with even less
need or hunger than regret.
Alan Shaw
BERLIN
To
c. s.
A Europe's demon slipped into the grave,
The tempest in these regions reached its height.
Now, in the angles of the floodlit night,
The future lingers like a frozen wave.
Our side is neon; pink-haired youth who crave
More welfare, swearing they will never fight;
Some cherish it, this Babylon the bright,
While others can see nothing left
to
save.
