Who is it now that desires the Moon
our seaborne legs in frenzied flight
amid royal swells of late afternoon
deadlights shut with woodchipped oars
another shrieking typhoon of ironball war
All hang the dogwatch for the spiders man yowls
to carving dan tower and both heave aft
straight down the word of the nest, come right
shouts woodleg nails, cut loose the ballast
up colors, short gunners, and chancred best
What simmering wagless nit heads stern on
full-suit to cripple we-merry grubs,
to burst us at our fresh patches then
crack our gunwhales to gullet out smartly these
dangling yards for ripe shark chum or bail
Jack kick the low sprawlers for crimps and good luck
run turns double up for fair winded sheets
then lay on the spread so it paints just the same
for a bullet passed or bullet gained, no slack lads
to no man's land we'll be headin' back
Dead man in the center will I sing aloud
then goad this nag over a dozen blind reefs
till our keel is stripsharp as a bluecrab claw
our split tail, bilge, in this lagoon lit squall
taken down by the sound of our envious tune
For racktalk, rumdreams and jolly old braggarts
this rough splintered deck holds well enough
cruel waister insults a fathom deep, aye
know now, new sir of the shiny button
without sand you won't stand, by our maggot forgotten
and we ain't seen none, since yesternoon...
...try the Moon
Tailor Bell
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-sand-of-the-moon-and-the-button/
