Off the Brittany Seacoast

(For Tristan Colbriere, The End, La Fin)

Oakum planks rowboat
Bohemian seafarers
The current pulls towards easy an stride
Oars pull – locks wobble,
dynamics of hollowness and displacement
Expecting the inclement
seeking a forward curl

You and your seafaring dreams
Do you not know about the fever that levels so many?
Deep, gritty slick bottom appeared
before no gracious host
only grey curious gaze

Or a foreign plot lined with the greyest stones
Shipmates and explorers align aside
only to fade
Nigh seamate, hold fast
seek the cove and savour
The salty bracing air dear shipmate

Ships lean, storms crush, sailors scramble and the orphans walk
Mast arched and stretched against
The grain.
Storms pull fro and ships seek harbor
Grimy oakumed planks stuffed with twine –
tapped with purposeful hammer
The hollow serves no purpose
with naught a shoreman aboard

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