In Cain
White whale
The devilish dark
The sum of hours spent at mass
The shape of a watch coat
Soul glued inside tabernacle of man
Enveloping self
I am tormented
How the itch
Drags me seaward
Who isn’t a slave?
Fasting I cave in on myself
In religious tongues
The protestant reach for salvation
Harpoon by the door
Bear me til I go O Lord
Great God absolute
Lip
Heart
Hip
Old ship another leaving
The whale meanwhile
Always close by
Who died at sea
For the flesh of him
Each parted tide
A woman’s touch
Return to a tavern
The slop and chowder
Bolted doors
Foundations fixed in solid ground
A brother’s blood cries out
My heart
Voyage (after Melville)
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged blood cries, great god, harpoon, o lord, old ship, white whale. Bookmark the permalink.
Another great post. I enjoyed reading your blog today.
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