Please Don't Call Me Ishmael
Call me your cabin boy. Cavernous,
Unanchored aimless mausoleum--stone
Box temple, blood-and-pulse edifice
Where center crossword clues stand alone.
Across by starboard, midnight's stomach veils
Celestial ways. Instruments calibrate
What may, a segue... Craps, the betting fails
The beast. Without a vig, the ship's weight
Sinks a cemetery. Follow the fish
And stuff the captured carcass full to win
The booty. Pittance guts. The wakes forego
Geometry. Morning of the fetish
Returns the bark tying jade dusk back with thin
String; it untied five thousand years ago.
--Anastasios Kozaitis
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