ocean of breeze less ease

drowning out the miner

pale of genteel praise

carries foul waters off the liner

washing away the much too tragic

tattoos of a good fortnight's flea

forever, to the endless bottom of a

chillingly placid grave of catastrophe

a brash but necessary burning of holes

takes the faces from the water's cream

like crests

and pulls more than a thousand plenty

tears to her darkly sweet oceanic breast

while wishing a last fair thee well to

all previously feared as stolen mistakes

as she closes up her watery taker's shop

to commandeer pulses of yet another of

many far off yet disturbed lakes.........

(April 4, 1994 am)

Author's Notes/Comments: 

written after watching a biography about old time ship wrecks at sea. How it took ages for the wives and families of the sailors to finally learn of their husband's and father's deaths sometimes many months after the actual wreck. To think for those intervening months they thought of those men and worried about them and prayed for their safe return home only to find out the whole time they were doing that they had already been dead for some months. I found it all very sad. the families to me were like tributaries to a river.

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