disgusted she was off the wall my hands held high palms meet the sky accidental couplet vers libre forgive me what the where the how the like dodging bullets in the dark zip zip zip jump duck flash of fireflies what swatting insects on the hammock oh where without you my beauty

i am the mariner though i am not ancient no plans to murder incidental seabirds nor hunt a whale the hammock is all i too am the locus for inexplicable phenomena though racing liquid in tubes muscle throb eye blink finger click culmination of generational crosspollination at a point in time and space i am scared i am imagination on a blank canvas therefore i think

the deck has lost its shine

they ate the compasses before anything else fat gold raindrops sliding past parched vocal chords disembowel and we shall have direction i know nothing of stars

sank like they were made from brass is brass heavy yes brass bones and copper skin brains like lead walking talking metallurgy sank themselves couldve cried tears crocodiles alligators reptiles cold blood but then not me they sank couldve laughed hahaha hyenas cheetahs mammals hot blood aarrggghhh

ive tied their arms she said no more swimming she said they cant i said shut up she said i said no more

the boat floats on a sapphire sea birds wheel overhead could be doves could be vultures i cant focus water water all around but not a drop to drink all is acrid and arid is the delirium upon me 7 14 21 28 35 42 49 56 63 70 no stay lucky

watching them sink sound doesnt travel smothered just the bubbles tell me there is a struggle open mouths but NOTHING miming death like a set of snakes down down down and dont stop until the bottom sinking because of themselves despite of themselves last act of mutiny repaid in full cruel irony but desensitised all the same smiles all round very human very civilised enamel polishing ESSENTIAL does all this make me belligerent scornful

practical?

i see the sea the sea doesnt see me the sea is not me i am not the sea the sea is the sea and i am me

they burned the map to make her mad hot foot jumping wouldnt it have been easier to just jump in the sea save the trouble and byebye middleman suspect 1 delusions of martyrdom suspect 2 pyromania suspect 3 boredom

we are adrift with no sight of land a ghost ship skeleton crew hahaha the fish must eat

yesterday i looked out to sea and imposed apricots billabongs chaos deities eagles fictions god hippopotami igloos jaguarundi kookaburra logic magic now oracles phalanxes questions reason satan twilight ubiquity vanadium wathawarung xoanon yesterday zwitterons and i did it with style

today the sea is barren

but they burned the map she said eyes lit up like a hungry cat whyd they do that shrug because shrug is safe and noncommittal how on earth did we get here wheres the whip without the whip i cant whip them first she said they burned the whip i said before they burned the map wily scurvyridden animals she said

on mondays my thoughts rashly turn to swapping the hammock for a bed regret is mine for the remainder of the week this infidelity is beyond my control

the sea looks like a sheet of glass the drowned men are images in a very deep frame the seagulls see what i can not perhaps not even they

cartographers are fools and miss the point stasis is an unhealthy obsession rather them in flames than their map

if the men had formed a trapezium and stood on each others shoulders could the one at the top still have breathed in out in out i have my doubts how long could the dead ones have held him

lying in the hammock my fingernails take on a significance beyond themselves but remain just fingernails

i do not recall anyone setting a course when we first set out

climb the rigging and look for land she said mouth awash with spikes from the top youll see for miles but theres no hammock i sit for hours with the crafty telescope and watch the blues change shade at the horizon she stands below watching me watch the sky thinking thoughts she thinks i cant hear

yesterday those eyes miaow miaow straight at the hammock as if it were oxen claws out ready defend defend i sleep with one eye open murderesses have no qualms about theft

on the transient translucent sea i will achieve clarity

the men climbed back on the boat in the dream scratch and sniff water in their noses salt on their breath howling like rabid dogs alive in death zombies of the deep sharkteeth hovering over her guts just came apart flew like glad birds ate through the deck ungrateful vermin the hammock and i drifted and settled on the ocean bed sheltered by an intestinal umbrella

i was not sad

nights at sea are colder than dead mans thumbs

i see the sea a gull sees the sea i dont see the gull the gull doesnt see me i am the gull the gull is me why then am i unable to see the carcasses how do i know the gull is there if i have not seen him

what if the gull did see me or i saw the gull would it be cathartic

was it treasure we were looking for why

nights in the crows nest are spent trying to grab hold of the blanket black sky and pull it into the sea down you come tawdry veil i shall have you yet what are you doing she shouts i have a fancy we are being watched by a thousand eyes look at them blink the filthy monsters it will be the belt for you tonight she says voyeurs or no i am on to you

in the absence of distractions the temptation comes upon me once more burn the foot burn the foot to set fire to her foot would make sense of it all the cackle and the crackle watching licking flame crawl up boiling blood rivers burst the banks flood the acres around desecrate the land living geography a point for comparison if nothing else would that make sense of it

the image of the hammock in pieces her standing over with a scimitar shivers through my spine anything but that

in the i of perception the men did not deserve to be murdered a map is a map and not an object to kill for lines on paper could i even read a map slumped over the table get me rum parrot on shoulder pass me the sczipfinder that i might better direct our course scrutter me gruttocks but distance from the hammock damn my poor sense of creativity

crewless and clueless we plough on the wind in our sails