Monday, January 3, 2011


The fishermen had lost their minds. Laying out no trawl.
Water sloshed in and out, up and over the boat, washing me overboard.
I screamed but my echoing words were not sought.
Swirling ever deeper a strange calm came about.

They grew distant, those cutting shadows on the water.
They dissolved into the air and the sailors breathed in their incandescent fumes.
Incoherent syllables fell out between drinks and casting reels.
Syllables bouncing, tumbling aimlessly to the ocean deep.

-M. Anderson circa 2008

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