The Lighthouse: Visual Poems from Point Reyes

The interpretive sign in front of us says “Whale Watching,” but we’re not entirely sure we believe it.

We look out over the railing into the gray absence that fogs in around us, and it’s hard to believe there’s anything but nothing out there.

The path down to the lighthouse is daunting as it disappears mere feet below; there can’t really be an entire building down there… right?

Everything around us is cradled in shades of brown and gray; even the greens are muted in mist.

Rust tugs away at the edges of foundations and civilization, of a developed world left adrift at sea.

Inside, the Point Reyes Lighthouse still operates, guiding ships to safe harbor through light and sound.

The park ranger tells us that the ocean beyond was clear until early afternoon. “You just missed the endless views,” she says, staring with trepidation down the road that led to staff housing, now hidden behind silky-gray blankets. For all we know, the views beyond never really existed at all…