December 2009
2 posts
“With the sentiment of the stars and moon, I get all the free margins and...”
– Walt Whitman
Destroyer
This ship is so cold tonight
And my warmth is in hiding.
But through this imaginary porthole
I can see you again, Eva.
I promised you I’d be home again,
But oh darling some promises
Are just harder to keep
O, weary sailor and forlorn pilot
Come alike and do not terry,
O, distraught captain
Gather your head
Under this Atlantic sun,
Divided we are dead men.
On this floating iron...