These walls, now empty

Nonetheless, have eyes

Thick, steel enforced…


Materially, since 1952

In the cold heart of war


These eyes

Looking out

Across ancient untouched lands

Midden, perhaps, bone laden

Dappled with quickly vanishing

Wallflower, Lupine, lizard


Across and through the great ventana

Over this deep and sacred canyon



Inward, observing

These eyes have seen so much

The drilling military

Preparing for interception

Pacing, plotting, planning

These eyes watch them, suspicious



The West


Inward, observing

These eyes witness

The transformation

To changed attention

A new war, perhaps

The countless hours

Of impassioned hands, minds

Amidst the hum of suburban expansions

Tireless calculations, analyzations

Of this great mystery beyond the shore

Hoping to know

Hoping to understand

How she breathes

How she swallows

How she creates

And decades later

Inward observing

These eyes watch

The rush of divers

Assembling for

The scouring

Of this same blue Mystery


The clues to Denver’s demise


These eyes look out, and behind

Over lands

Separated by thick concrete

Watching over the divide

At Hundreds of burials

Over Grieving, releasing

Citizens of place, the recent ancestors

Remembering, honoring

It watches

It watches


A short shadow in comparison

To the adjacent pulsing light

Guiding, protecting the sea

This atomic proof sentinel

Watches nonetheless


Over lands and hearts and species

Its gates, protecting

Cradling the lands of hummingbird

And the rough and sandy microcosmic

Worlds of dune



Did the land rise up to create you?

A result of thousands of years

Of ancient worship, community, respect

Of bare feet honoring these shores, that Mystery

Before the Fall

Did the land rise up to create you

Impenetrable, solid

To see

To hold

To be

To Protect?




Watching over me

As young child, exploring

Tiny plump hands, I grip your gate

Looking up

And wonder

Have you always been here


Will you always be here




Whether regarded

With the cloak of history

To these eyes

In her-story

You are seen

You will always be sacred

You will always be

The protector, and perhaps someday teacher

Of these lands

The fortress

Now graced with the eyes of the Ocean

In her-story


Will always be




Thanks for tuning in to this series of poems honoring the NOAA building in Pacific Grove, CA. If you’d like to hear this poem recited, you can find an audio version here:


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