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…
Liked “Per Annum.”
Way to go, JOB, but…….
Must you be so darn productive?!
Lindsay,
Thanks!
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…
JOB