Tsunami

by Alan Britt / August 21st, 2016

Tamarinds sizzle as wave heaves
buildings by their roots, straw huts,
open-air cocktail bars, and hotels,
all cruising fruit stands,
tourist dress shop, Pier One®,
and wailing ancestors.

Tamarind seeds, older than
human intelligence, clog arteries
with Pacific salt and devastation
spinning espresso coffins
past laundromat that cleanses
everyone, urging us to evolve past
all the shit wasting our time
and make amends with whatever
we’re at odds with and disappearing
fast.

In August 2015 Alan Britt was invited by the Ecuadorian House of Culture Benjamín Carrión in Quito, Ecuador as part of the first cultural exchange of poets between Ecuador and the United States. His interview at The Library of Congress for The Poet and the Poem aired on Pacifica Radio, January 2013. He has published 15 books of poetry, including his latest, Violin Smoke, translated into Hungarian by Paul Sohar and published by Iradalmi Jelen Könyvek publishers. Read other articles by Alan.

This article was posted on Sunday, August 21st, 2016 at 8:02am and is filed under Poetry.