The Ocean

the ocean is a vast pair of lungs
heaving with catarrh,
swollen with greatness and
swelling with yellow-white froth.

these old lungs suck air like a trumpet
blowing past the stale air inside itself,
giving the ear wanton repetition.

these lungs are only the salt and water
of a great surface and
below this surface some say there are
a mountain of intruders making life.

I know there is nothing down there.

Life below the tumult
of waves hitting lungs
is as unforeseen as an aftershock,
a watered down idea like a drunk's imagination.