ocean
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The End of the Beach
At first I complained about the oil rigs and the hour round trip for anything in town. Being at the ass end of Fort Morgan near the ferry does have one good thing going for it: the chance for a solitary walk beyond all the beach people to where the only thing on two legs Continue reading
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On the beach
The Sun surveys hiscoming kingdom of scorched sandand motionless scrub. Where will the heronnest when the barren shallowsflash only with shell? Will the snakes returnto the sea when nothing elsestirs in the blank dunes? A bleached forest of pilingslike the salted trees in thebareness behind. The oil platforms offthis pleasant beach like standingstones left by Continue reading
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The ragged hem of Ocean
February 26. Covered 172 miles. Cloudy sky, grey sea. Nothingness. February 27, Covered 94 miles. Blue sky, blue sea. Nothingness. — Two log entries from Bernard Moitessier’s The Long Way. This is not the ocean, these mild ripples washing the crowded shore. It is merely the edge of the thing, a ragged hem. The loud, Continue reading
About Me
Mark Folse is a provincial diarist and aspiring minor poet from New Orleans. His past blogging adventures included the Katina/Federal Flood blog wetbankguide on blogspot.com which David Simon told NY Magazine was one of three blogs that helped inform Treme, and Toulouse Street–Odd Bits of Life in New Orleans, which once outranked the Doobie Brothers on Google Search. His work has appeared in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, The New Delta Review, Metazen, New Laurel Review, Ellipsis, What We Know: New Orleans as Home, Please Forward, The Maple Leaf Rag IV, and A Howling in the Wires (which he co-edited).
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Well Bottom Blues 