With the bulwarks deep in the swell
The Captain raged and yelled
The crew kept their eyes on the riverbank
While the ship rattled and sank
Down, down below…
the riverbed we go
I hope you find your mother there
and your lover and your notebook
and those nights you never went to sleep
and days spent never shutting up
Snow piles on the toolshed the color of cream
while you sit alone in the kitchen window
involved in a gently diminishing dream
staring at your face in the back of a spoon
and that can’t be good for your self-esteem
bulging nose and imploding forehead
gray-whisked chin and two ears that scream
Eyes scrunched into two little blisters
While the teapot hisses and spits up steam
This fogginess is terrible on your complexion
Awful for your nightmares
The night mares running unsaddled
And pure into the midnight mist
And the cliffs jagged and steep and unseen
So pure in their deadly drop
Awful for shutting up
Sonar signals don’t get picked up
Down here in the deep
The radar doesn’t do us any good
Drowning in our sleep
The waters a-chopped
with foam and electronic flotsam
our personalities floating a-lost
in the vast space of air and emptiness
stored in pictures that lie
bouncing on waves bewitching
Drifting into shores untrampled
and trampling them
The tiger hisses like a snake
The suffering city is blanketed gray…
If you cradle me like a baby
I’ll fall sleep and dream I’m safe.
The peaches all dropped from the tree
and are rotten on the ground,
but aren’t they still beautiful?
Beautifully eaten by worms?
How can you sing so lovely
with that iron lung?
I don’t know.
I know. I don’t. I can’t.
How can you exist so fine
made of such decay?
The Bluebirds’ big bite
and tired, yellow eyes.
Everyday, every daisy,
Tying our ties.
and rolling up our sleeves.
Makes me long to stay, but
we’re just here for a visit
Single passengers on this vessel