Sunday Surf Poem: Elderly Surfer by Laurence Goldstein

May we all live long enough to be the subject of this week’s Sunday Surf Poem. Welcome to “Elderly Surfer” by Laurence Goldstein.

Want to hear it instead? There’s a micro-pod for that.

Laurence Goldstein was an actual poet, editor, and professor in the University of Michigan Department of English Language and Literature. Born in Los Angeles in 1943, he earned a B.A. from UCLA in 1965 and a Ph.D. from Brown University (yes, the one in Rhode Island) in 1970. Beginning in 1977, Goldstein served as the chief editor of the Michigan Quarterly Review.

So there’s a chance—a chance—that he did experience surfing at some point in his life. Not guaranteed though. The poem still stands beautifully on its own.

????????‍♂️ elderly surfer

by Laurence Goldstein

No more cold creeps for you, old man,
leathery outlier so long steeped before dawn
in the numbing Pacific rhythm of swell upon swell,
the I am/iamb of rising to the board and shooting the curl,
skiing that steep face inimical to man,

and then just short of shore-break
turning your back on the furry beach towels
and bedroom eyes of Laguna girls,
the empty lifeguard station,
to paddle again two whale-lengths further
than any teen pretender dares,and wait; what is time but a quicker take-off,
a smoother passage through the tube,
a hundred-thousand cycles of the sea-god’s
vehement charity, even now flexing and rolling toward you—
the radiant thunder of a perfect wave?

Author: The Wipeout Weekly team