Fragile as a ghost, I drifted
on a moonlit beach
in the Shoal Haven,
oblivious to the obvious.
A message was written in the sand,
cursive, but not by any hand.
The Architecture of the Sea,
a short course on the shore,
taught by a moray eel.
Moonlight fluttered nervously on the beach,
indigo ripples crisscrossed the waves,
and the moray surfed and slithered
to the shore.
His jaws opened wide,
of teeth glimmered,
by far. The others
bouts of screaming,
only the eel and I
I’ve researched the processions of the ocean,
all creatures in their mantles, wearing
masks of themselves, the overlaid
necessities of fear and craving.
His painted eyes studied me.
For those who are too timid
to dip a toe in the water,
such knowledge is invaluable.
When he mentioned toes, his mouth
closed with a rasp and a grind.
The naive are forever unaware
of their naivety. They look out
on the world through double-glazed
I have travelled beneath
the impenetrable seafloor,
where the irreducible is hidden,
in a place illumed by dreams of light—
But before I continue,
I require a donation.
An unwanted digit will suffice.
Windows, evolved by the visual evo engine, with the visual revelator showing what is hidden in the light and the shadows. From an interior view of the new Electrical Engineering Building at the University of Sydney, during construction.