poetry in motion

it was a tall young oysterman
over the river they beckon to me
why do
the agony of having too much power
do you hear the rain?
like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon
i am in love with high far-seeing places
tell me less or tell me more
i never knew the earth had so much gold
there is no flock, however watched and tended
there are three ways in which men take
a life on the ocean wave