The Lighthouse

Fiction

I visited Dover castle and the Roman lighthouse over 10 years ago.

stone upon stone upon stone and ancient mortar. a net stretched across the open space where the floor woodenly stood sentinel against the rain’s rotting lash. a dead seagull was caught in the net. its feathers drift down like snow from its bones when the wind dances through. its feathers drift down like ash from its bones when fleet fled the burning harbor.

Photo Credit

The first serious poem I ever wrote

Poetry

When the sun peers into the sea

It doesn’t see itself at first

But when the reflection is clear

The sun is riding on the waves.

(So I wrote that in 5th grade and I’m still kinda proud of it even though reflections need light or whatever and scientifically it doesn’t make any sense BUT there’s this weird place where writing takes you where things don’t have to make sense to make you feel good.)