Sights of minnow, despair
Fish dream to nonaction
The rudderless course of a ship
Its hull beating against a manless dock
Upended cups on bollards
Cranky pier beams
And glinty eyed gulls
Are harbinger of somebody’s breakfast
Mere muff grazers
Spill onto the dock
Warning of a fatuous Sunday
Afternoon
When the boat will be full
But not full of anybody
Willing to say what needs to be said
One thought is embarrassed to death
In a throat
Because the men want what they want
And you will have what you have
Late in the day
Jackson lost on the beam
One thought parts
Into milk and cream
Your eyes too full of pain and fear
You couldn’t tell me the truth right then
Not about anything
Not right here
Beauty is Imperfection 