#348. the cutter eagle

August 8, 2010

i built a ship
a childhood
balsa and pine
on my small hands
the hands of my dad
large and sure
we worked so hard
to build and paint
the cutter eagle
running home
after school to sand
the hull smooth
and dream

complete
i gave it to my dad’s
father when he admired it

years later
it returned to me
after deaths
it was covered
in dust and cobwebs
rigged it

as my years passed
it grew tattered and
broken and thrown away
with one of my failed lives

but my ship still lives
rotting on in a landfill in jersey
and here within my double planked
mind making its way across the endless
sea

#300. harbor reach

June 21, 2010

out in the harbor
the noise recedes
fades into the ancient
sounds of wind on sails
water slapping the hull
time is changed
my spirit lifts in the breeze

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