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      October 13, 2008ThalassophobiaPatrick Ryan Frank

      —The fear of the ocean.

      That there are depths you cannot know
      and you could sink forever,
      the water below
       
      opening only to other water,
      unlit undertow,
      movement, tighter
       
      circling shapes surrounding you,
      all unknown edge and bitter
      hunger, tooth
       
      or tentacle or fin, all black
      approaching through the blue,
      the clinching wrack
       
      of struggle, the final giving up
      to the pressure and the dark,
      that patient grip,
       
      panic burnt down to a dull
      and thoughtless ache, the slip
      into the pull
       
      of nowhere, bearing no hate, no wrath,
      holding nothing at all,
      not even your breath.

      from #26 - Winter 2006

      Patrick Ryan Frank

      “In my work, I’m interested in issues of control: how people master their fears, or else are mastered by them; how a poem’s movement can push against its structure; how meaning can determine shape. Essentially, life is composed of conflict and tension, and poetry is the art of struggling beautifully.”

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