Strange encounters in open waters0

• January 15, 2018

When the still sea conspires an armor And her sullen and aborted Currents breed tiny monsters True sailing is dead Awkward instant And the first animal is jettisoned Legs furiously pumping Their stiff green gallop And heads bob up Poise Delicate Pause Consent In mute nostril agony Carefully refined And sealed over -Horse Latitudes, Poem