From Take Me to Stavanger


We’re Heading into Autumn

We’re heading into autumn.
They’ve doused the fires on deck.
Let me serve as callow cabin boy
on an endless voyage.

Into the storm, the iridescent cosmos.
To the savage dances of sunset.
To see nothing but ocean,
forget the land.


And if we never make it back
to our home, our loved ones, our mothers,
don’t lower funeral wreaths
into the waves.


If the land forgets
the cabin boy—that means
it was bottomless autumn in the old man’s parting.
It was inevitable.


(. . .) I Want to Hear the Roar of Waves

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