mere PI

a note about the piece at nightfall
into the empire of the whistling swan
like ballast west from tangier sound through the waning sun
the orange of pine and oak boat moves on
of the osprey, white loon and canvasback
schoolhouse, church and houses
thinking of the islands vanished
snow tumbles to the water dark
broke off in chunks and drowned
thinking of the original floating theater
nets of fast land to the isle of deals
showboat, closed down and drifting
thinking of the dark haul of all giveaways to icy tumps
the wide-eyed once familiar faces
of bateaus and dinky skiffs
now sinking or sunken down trenches of tidal gut
thinking of all the souls now settling their prayers
begin reaching the shallows feels its way
thinking of the cypress through thoroughfare, drain
in the black water of the little swash of sucking marsh
of the great depth at which we find over a shoulder
the pale moon comes that circles the globe
images of ghosts and things
thin as a lure and shining
widgeon grass and the sea lettuce
the mud banks quake and hold its bow wild, wild celery
parted the cowlicks damp and sticky flora
silage from the spiky corn grass
ripples in windrows the marshlands flow
lies caught like fishes for a moment only
we are lost in the dark netting
and rule the world
there you are and so we are.


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