Dappled Things

The new issue is out, though not all online. Even one of The Wisconsin Poet’s offerings is reserved for print. But another, Maritime, is all there, Eddie:

Emerging cold and desperate, his whiting breath
Trails behind him like the old ship’s own signature
Disgorged in blunt belchings of smoke from its belly
Through a single squat stack piping up the trying pots.
The wit-starved whaler tells his hunger-angry crew:
Sing a tune from groggy memory; desires supply the words.
There’s the sea and he scans it like a line of poetry…


  1. Liked “Per Annum.”

    Way to go, JOB, but…….

    Must you be so darn productive?!

  2. Lindsay,


    What can I say? It’s like my grandfather always said about me:
    He’s too light for heavy work and too heavy for light work.

    Writing must just be right there on the line…


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