for lack of wood pulp, or would
and pulp,
for want not to float upon
facades, skirt on edges, to not
feel the marginalia and rip rap
hit the sides,
holding back
the body,
there would still be
an attachment to enough rope
to go around.
and pulp,
for want not to float upon
facades, skirt on edges, to not
feel the marginalia and rip rap
hit the sides,
holding back
the body,
there would still be
an attachment to enough rope
to go around.
Without implementation,
rudders, or other such
contraptions
to head our aim, ply and slog,
drifting
is all that is done right.
To go on
observing instead of
observing instead of
commanding, holding
on to the rails
with fingertips and first
knuckles only, lightly
the self adjusts
trading winds
until all seems leveled
up, like glass or calm
glimmers that dance,
smoothly this rock
glides underneath
carrying its own weight
violent and jealous
of the flotilla holding up-
right for a fragment of time.
There was nothing left
To Do.
knuckles only, lightly
the self adjusts
trading winds
until all seems leveled
up, like glass or calm
glimmers that dance,
smoothly this rock
glides underneath
carrying its own weight
violent and jealous
of the flotilla holding up-
right for a fragment of time.
There was nothing left
To Do.
Painting by J. M. W. Turner, 'Rough sea with wreckage' (c.1840-45) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.