“a kelp forest is one of the undersea wonders of the world….We will try to explain the secret of this sea kelp.” – Se-Kwon Kim
Avert your eyes from kelp mounds, stretched across the beach like walruses from other worlds, deceased but hungry for attention. Up close, their meaty lattices, unkempt, intestinal,
deep breathe with flies. Their tentacles now lax, bear swollen bulbs to float them vertical. Experts refuse to label them as plants – no vasculars, stomata, chlorophyll.
But kelp has tired of living rootless, vain extending for the sun, the boring sway of tides, and soon they lose it, snap and strain to shore, creeping boneless from the waves.
They long to green and harden, make canopies, put down legs, and join our life of gravity.
Douglas Jones, MFA poetry (Univ. of Idaho), MA philosophy (Univ. of Southern Cal) has published work in McSweeney’s, Antiphon, Books and Culture, Valparaiso Poetry Review, River Oak Review, Phil Lit, and the California Quarterly. He teaches high-school literature at The Cambridge School, San Diego, California.