his mouthful of body pleas
from the sea's trenched throat
dupe of respiration, tricked into breathing
the liquid delusion, his last
through sleep-shot clouds
his iron-necked heart craned
an industrial drain
hauled from the brown basin
came down with something bad
in tow
a disgusted hole
bitten into his foresighted dread
a different ledger drumming all night
statistics into his relentless head
(for Hart Crane, 1987)
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