I am an old sailor now
unencumbered
by the land or sea
I prefer
to dream
For this poverty
of life
Has filled me with hopes
for death
it seems a much gentler destination
for one such as I
accustomed to nature's rages
followed by emptiness
and waste
fertile abundance and famine
television shows
banner ads
and mailboxes devoid of
handwritten words
landlocked or seaswept
at peace with the heart of dreams
I find what was never lost
and lose myself in what can't be found
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