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 He is a sailor Is I guess what I told my father He's a sailor
and he lives I said On the other side of the six-foot wooden fence At
the back of the Backyard I talk to his voice Through a knothole A funny
thing to say My father says and I say The sailor tells me the color Of
storms and depths And gulls and the wind On the water in the light What
it looks like When lightning Strikes ship And showers down Through the
rigging I told my father And my father nodded I see it now across the
years You muses who disappear Like the weary Beggar with the sign HUNGRY
Sent me slipping into a burger joint To get a hot chuck with cheese But
when I step out To give it to you You've gone away like a minute
With sad incredible eyes Shackleton journaled He and his men were
attended By some presence Among them but missing In their midst as they
were Falling into lunacy Lost in the icy wastes They swore it was a
resurrection To the moonface Grinning with terrible mischief Unlock me
muses Of the lost and losing And the seashell kindly gnashing to fill me
Capture and demolish this will Be thee emperor imaginary Of dawn and
skyline Tell me stories of the old seaside From your contents throw me
lines Made on the loom of days As you pound me with waves Before you

JESSE NATHAN studies, writes, and edits poetry. He lives in San Francisco.

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Title Annotation:two poems
Author:Nathan, Jesse
Publication:The American Poetry Review
Article Type:Poem
Date:Sep 1, 2016
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