{From “Notes From a Boat” — living briefly on a tall ship}

Set your course to zero five
blue silk emanates
to mark distance fathomed
beneath our feet
which so liltingly wear these salted planks
these dark bilges and bright rails
across a saltwater passage
of bleeding fingers and sunburnt hearts.
The illusion of flight is flecked
with sweat and sleeplessness,
yet holds.
The sky, the sing
of water against her timbers
all truss to our dreams
and we wake to another galley chore,
another hour of tarring shrouds
to heaven, another life
among stinky socks and shanty sings
and all the wick that we can hold, all leavening
and photosynthesis, the width
of soul and all the windward leaning things
that here, on water,
make us alive.