*** 
 I. gallows bird
 Bright-feathered, bright-eyed 
A far cry from Odin's somber pair 
No twin to the Morrigan's pet 
The gaudiness is blinding to scum-coated eyes
 We pass from hand to hand, and never a crumb to eat 
So it says, silent 
Sitting upon the clavicle of its last bread-man 
The bone protrudes sharpish 
Its ragged parched yellow tarp can no longer 
Contain its inner 
Smile, grim on black plain 
Call it a halo, if we were angels.
 We're devils, fancy and furious to the last 
Our tongues may rot from our jawbones 
But our feet still dance 
Whirling whirling round round 
Jangle reel, clatter until 
The small white pieces dice themselves at the sea
 A scrap of lace, well mildewed 
A hint of ruby emerald jade 
 tucked into a rib, like cut-price stigmata
 Perhaps a few scalp strands for the nest 
If we were of a nesting kind 
We're not: restless, the bird paces 
Rakes at the smooth white ball 
That once held the secret of life itself.
 And it sets itself 
Proud red breast to the bloody sun 
Against the drift of timelessness
 It calls, bold brash humanity 
Married falsely 
To cere hardness, jaunty false yellow
 Below, beneath dangling rotting feet 
The sea stirs.
 ***
 II.  seabed ghost
 He was a bo'sun once 
That was his rank 
That was his title name life charge 
That was him
 But before the red wash 
Stained steel and hands 
Before the chains of Solomon 
Dark dusky follower of the irresistible lash 
Before that, he knew:
 Veldt 
Oceanic grass whispering around ankles 
Color of sun strained through sky 
The sound of meat ahoof, more than satisfying 
The whole hunger of the world 
Neverending fields
 His scars were marks of another rank 
Another honor 
One he recalled only when matched 
Sword-sword with equality 
They ceased to hurt long before the curse 
But it was not until then that he forgot 
Outline of honest bravery on his skin 
And the line of cruelty 
Swirling down the map of man 
Halving right and wrong 
An unjust judgment, and you call this wisdom?
 He feels them now, again 
Turned to fish-flesh 
Pitted seashells coiled around 
Gold coins 
Numbering two--enough for passage
 The waves sweep him down 
A wild storm 
And as the sands pass over him 
 He sees gold-green endless once more.
 ***
 III.  the (girl-)pirate and the princess
 Woman's time, we all feel the moon 
But there's many as don't know 
Night-sky silver beauty pulls, but it's 
Dark cool ocean that flows
 I've always loved the sea 
Since when I still laid a-cradle 
Father tells me 
I used to reach for the seashell 
Ignore the dolls
 It's bloody-red and hot and sticky 
And them men fools, they all think we're frail 
Delicate, fainting-like 
Well-- 
I've been hearing her longer'n almost all of them
 Still, when we left England 
So fast, too fast to fear and nerve 
I had time to be sad 
Never until then did I see the vastness of the gulf
 My first kill, he toppled right off the pier 
Blood spiraled 'round his sinking head 
Went skull-down, and just went to show 
I was right; he was stone-brained. 
But I heard a sigh
 She liked the taste.  Blood. 
She ain't delicate either.
 Our voyage was easy.  We missed most of the storms 
Bored me to death, and so I sneaked 
The dispatches, the older kinder sailors 
Wanting to know of treasure and pirates 
and life where the sky matched happiness
 They never mentioned fog. 
Or chills, mistook for excitement by a too-young petticoat.
 You watch her, nights 
When the moon's riding high 
You hear? 
She's got me body, like no man ever 
And I've got her taste
 I learned.  I fell. 
Salt in my mouth, lungs, and that 
Was only the start. 
Lessons I was looking for among men. 
I should have started with her.
 ***
 IV. boy in the forge
 Fire he knows well 
He's touched it, been touched by it 
He'll bear its marks life-long
 When he was smaller-- 
(not younger, he was older when his father failed to return, when his mother died) 
When he was less strong-- 
(not weak, he wasn't when he arranged a pauper's funeral, worked his sea-tossed way across) 
When he was slower-- 
(not stupider, he wasn't when he managed shop and accounts and respectably hard life)
 --he let it ripple over him.
 Red and black seared flesh 
Not blue 
But he burns himself now 
Whips it to his mouth and tastes 
Salt.
 And he watches the flames 
 Wide narrow twisting turning striving upwards always
 Liquid, he thinks, sting still on his tongue
 He remembers drowning water-swallowed 
In flame
 And his scars echo through the waves
 ***
 V. black-hearted apostle
 Milton's blind 
Still, he didn't see anything when he was alive 
Better to reign where?
 He never knew hell, though maybe a girl or two 
Glimpsed him heaven.
 You don't lead down below 
 fire say some ice say others they're all know-nothing layabouts 
water's closest, gives when pushed but takes you where it will
 Not ever.  No one. 
Doubt even Old Morning-Star… 
And aye, I was as bright once 
Pretty captain, but damned fine first mate 
Who followed-
 --kept following.  That's the trick, see? 
Hunger.  Greed.  Call whatever name you please, same devil as always 
Popping up in that circle of gold.
 That's hell.
 ***
 VI. sphinx's joke
 Three is a sacred number 
Solemn 
Go beyond religion, and still it holds true.
 Truth is law, law is truth. 
Immutable 
Reason results in the right conclusion.
 But Socrates never dealt with change 
Never wandered far from his Athens 
Bright light of civilization 
He grew old, but he knew that in all those years 
He knew that he knew nothing.
 And unfortunately, that's not enough 
Here, with the whole arc of life
 Old man, grizzled practical humorous wise 
Sparking less than he used to, but still able 
To run and fight and flee- 
Deserter 
Who returns for the one left behind.
 Middle-man, middle of everything 
Fingers mix-meddling in the thick of it 
Laughs more than any other 
Death's trickster, treeing the timeless scythe time and again 
Free.  Pirate.
 Youth, good strong promising 
Throwing it to join the black side 
Yet coming out the whiter for it 
Or perhaps dark and light have smudged silver 
Blade-sharp, undaunted and suddenly grown.
 It aches 
The mind, hidden beneath its proper wig of 
Duty and Law and Order 
It aches and it-
 --stares at the passage of life, 
Brilliant arc always just beyond reach 
 ***
 VII. microcosmic metaphor
 thousand other quirks 
staring back, reflections watching the watcher 
world-full, people variable
 pirates and parsons 
freemen and slaves 
women, men, and those that 
are what they will
 drifting on the river
 ***
 VIII. reflections of a self-claimed captain
 He wears the shadows of pain 
Scar here, ruined flesh there 
Wrinkles spread their toes from the corners of his eyes 
No, time does not bear being cheated 
Even immortal bones tire and dull
 Death lies at his back and cups in his hands 
One companion 
He'll never be alone 
Luck carries and drops him as it will 
As it were, he's tempted it into more reversals than most
 Memories 
They fade, while the real sources come and go 
Even black looks different in the mind than in the flesh- 
 --or wood, to be true to truth
 And yet:
 He can step in the sea 
Day after day after day 
And never be in the same one twice 
Changeable the most, but there's always one
 And there is always him.
 ***
 IX. sails on the horizon
 Brutality 
Winds that will rip you down, crash your weak dreaming body 
Down to the deep 
Black water, greedy hungry mauling 
It'll reach for you, full of 
 nays and nos and nevers 
gainsay your every thought and suggestion
 But for us.  Do not mock our frailty 
Or our uncommon fierceness 
Do not ask about our ways 
How we fight, what we must do
 What we do, how we do, we do for you 
We carry you home, carry you away, carry you forward
 And we are all that lies between you and-
 falling
 ***
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