A liar’s voyage,

this dichotomous insistence

a cartesian fetsishism

these equations do not add

still we line our sexton

to this false horizon

reckon our dead

we shackled mariners

unswayed by our inability to swim

raise sails to battered masts

praise in song our unworthy ships

while mad cartographers draw lines

mapping the desolate

spicing the desert with monsters

No one dares tell the captain he’s mad

when the sea closes overhead

fills lungs with brine

each of us has our turn at the wheel.

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2 Comments

  1. lonomoholo

     /  June 4, 2013

    Good poem. I think however, you meant ‘sextant’ which is the nautical measury thing, whereas ‘sexton’ is a person who looks after churches ‘n’ stuff. Or maybe I am just a pedantic asshole.

    Reply
  2. Thank you, I did mean “sextant” but I don’t…brain….good

    Reply

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