Wednesday, January 22, 2014

NO PUSSYFOOTING

Wake up—quick, where
are you?  

At all, or
were you?—Out there yet-
again, I guess—

the only ever 
sober sailor 
pitching—will-less

and wild across 
the wine- 
dark water—remembering

but not 
quite,
the swollen taste of

the wind! Your
cap! 
You're

windy, cap!—keep this up,
and the brass-

ness of your
buttons will surely snap!  

And: what shall we 
What shall we do with a—
What shall we do with a—do with a—do with a

another repetitive    
song about loss?

Resolve
Resolve
Resolve it—yes,

you will become
lost—
in watery labyrinths now
and then—and present
ly find your way 

back home 
again, 

to bed,
again

but next time, 
not quite—that is

to say; a little 
bit less—

indecisively-
so,
and wet.