Tarry boards afloat with echo,
Jubilant, the languages of port;
Restive horses, orange cargo
Leave the second last resort
Below the father’s monstrance
And above the son’s retort.
Echo seeps among the peaches
Down where bow bisects distortion –
Smash and ballast; summer
Comes between two springs;
Sliding moment; cotton storm and spray –
Darkness points the gulley;
Day lies down by day.
Echo swims the iron mines;
Knew the new blind ships before
They saw the sea; reads signs unwritten,
Weighing cracks imperiously;
Swoops at fitting times,
Contriving corporal rhymes
To galvanize the sighted sailor,
Chasm wise in void avoidance –
Balance is not earned but owed;
Think the voyage, dream the road
Your shipmates fail to crave –
Solace on the narrow grave
Will hold you to survive, with scars;
Upwards to the chart –
As sea enhances vividness of stars
(Parted, still part)
Reflect, you could do worse.
A curse once being a blessing,
The ocean’s then a sailor’s curse.