|
Floating |
Hollow out the trunk
of a redwood tree
and launch upon broken glass,
skimming green-blue waves
and cupping foam
like a header of beer.
Lay back in the roughhewn hull,
enjoying freedom on the sea,
the midday blaze
burns temples and cheeks.
Night arrives, I drift
in this boat I have whittled
from a life of misread instructions.
Lost among whitecaps
with a badly printed map
of unremarkable stars.
copyright 2016
Jerry
Garcia |
