i draw the black straw out of you

Today I spent one hour researching the wandering albatross for a poem. It’s remarkable how quickly the “for a ______” can turn into a “for me”. Today really was no different. I learned that the wandering albatross favors the southern oceans because the winds are at their most furious there. Their wingspans are up to 11 feet – the longest of any living bird, and they can go for hours, days even without flapping. After they are seven years old they find a mate with whom they exclusively breed every two years until one dies. This could be up to 80 years, though most only live into their 60s. They eat octopus, squid, crustaceans and cuttlefish.

Here’s the thing, though, in their non-breeding years, they are known to fly all the way around the world, alone, stopping only to occasionally eat. Some go for months without ever landing. There are many pictures of them online. They sort of look like ducks when they’re in the water, but broader, and thinner maybe. Ancient. And their beaks have more stories. Maybe it’s because they are almost all bone white except a fleck or two of black. I’ve never seen such a graceful looking bird.

But like all things that are holy, they’re endangered now. From the arctic waters to Uruguay and southern Brazil, line fishing has become the rage of the day. And because they don’t have to be near land, the wandering albatross will follow a boat, frequently for months. Often times, they think that the meat on the line is an octopus or squid and will fall to it, thinking of a meal. Then they’re trapped by the hook, and unless someone sees them and frees them from the line, they die there. I imagine it is the worst death for a bird like a wandering albatross: to die in the water, so far from the cold wind and the night air.

I’m struck with melancholy today. Perhaps it is thinking of the fate of the wandering albatross that has suddenly ruined my mood. I should think rather of the years spent flying around the great waters of the world. I should think of bellies fat with eggs and the longest moon blessed wings. I will try, at least, for this cure.

and death shall have no dominion

I wanted to write about the Sumatra earthquake and South Asian tsunamis but these topics, especially when they’re fresh, aren’t easily plucked into some lucid workings. Anyway tributes and memorials make me sick. Still mourning is important none-the-less. For a moment like this, when I don’t have the words but need them, I've decided to give Dylan Thomas some time on this post. So this is what it is.

And Death Shall Have No Dominion
by Dylan Thomas

And death shall have no dominion.
Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.