Born on top of the giant wave

Seventy miles,

And seventy more!

I fight the coast with my feet

Where I stand to cease

Kissing the wind with my face.

The daystar bruises,

The sea it sprawls

With every stroke–leverage.

With every word a fight.

Hookers are delightful in red,

A crown of flowers

The shallow stage

And a boy who calls himself Holofernes.

I don’t care much that it smells of death

Hold the corpse up!

The deathier the better!

For ideals–

My life–worth chasing!

This feast, no Rome, no God!

Pardon me like John the Baptist

A wartorn Goliath melting in the sand.

caravaggio_judith_beheading_holofernes

Advertisements
Born on top of the giant wave