Fore-warned, of sails
aflutter, fluttering.
Hurry! the river,
its sleepless flesh,
directionless,
must find
the water's edge.
Of accent, ocean's
clear,symbolic voice,
a moon,a sunken ship,
a tomb and this-
who can bear
my sadness?
Sea-hair roped,
bone-colored
wood,yellowed ash
of marigold and wind
the strength
of bulls,
spiraling wings
of feathered foam,
the bright, blue
darkness
that sings like
Phorcys daughters
calls you home.
No comments:
Post a Comment