Barnacled and seaweed strewn
The buoy sits rustily atop
The ebbing tide - a caged bell
Beyond the harbour wall -
A metal drum slip-slopping
Against the sea-borne froth -
Sounding the murky greenness
Of the unseen depth.
This ocean's tuning fork -
Whispering a garbled message
From the deep unconscious void -
Tapping out the rhythm
Of the earth's core -
Chronicling the nightmares
And the unmeasured fathoms
Of the heart.