Poem #3 -- Poetry Grace and Insanity

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Date Posted: 19:55:12 02/13/00 Sun
Author: Jonathan Hirsch
Subject: Poem #3

3

A seamen once asked
If I would murder my kind,
When woke to death;
Sulking soaking in bruised bottom.

His gooey mustard eyes recede,
Seeds tumble in the ebb;
Cha-cha'd in the night;
To everlasting island life.

There lingers still,
Deft page-flipping.
Half pronounced;
Grotesque ecstatic
Lips,
That close
As seas on flooded decks.

Post-human remains arise;
Beached as a bar,
Riveting the final tortoise stretch,
Of an inherently apocalyptic world.

The vessel headed to land.

2/12/00

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Replies:

Re: Poem #3 -- Leisa*), 10:38:15 02/23/00 Wed
Re: Poem #3 -- Mors, 13:02:40 02/23/00 Wed