Jan 302015
I in my difficult self confined,
A figurehead in any kind of weather,
Feel the flesh fail, 
My blunt body blown about
In moon's-blood shouldering the prow.

I in the wind's stir untended,
A feather unfathered in unkind weather,
Blow, burn unblessed,
Dying of indecision;  crushed, cursed by all
The maybe plagues.

I from my difficult self unbound,
A thrifty theiver of the weather,
Shift the kissing sticks
Jove tossed crossing to the blundering waves;
I emblazon my desire with a lightning look.

I in my infinite self confirmed,  
A watchman of rocks in whiskey weather,
Feel Babylon's wormy stars
Still drill real into my pinnacled pride 
For all my woeful mouth's wanting eternity now.

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