Is this mad ramblings of a man or of a fish beneath this vast ocean
far from the roiling surface of crashing waves and surf
down here is silence and the darkness of the womb
the mother of the salt water which runs in all our
veins; I wish to be buried at sea when the
time comes to let my Viking spirit free
to roam eternity marauding where
I may or where I might, this
is the last storm coming
in on… the horizon
before long
the eyes
called stars
peek down upon us
in our sleep deciding our
fate in our dreams which we
forget when we awake and they
hide behind the day; into the bramble
bush I fell along with all the rabbits from hell
and killer tomatoes overtaking me so I flat face
down; a trick I learned in Pamplona running with the bulls
farewell my fancy feathered friends, the rainy season has begun
and I will never know if I have won your hearts because I know you
will never tell me and Rome where all roads lead will never take me home
again so I will visit that cottage in the country lane where time began again so
help me God willing and the creek don’t rise, but then again amen amen and tempus fugit

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