short poem

this is the ship of pearl
the earth keeps some vibration going
they ask me where i've been
for then without
green afternoon serene and bright
in the cloud-gray mornings
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
to be able to see every side of every question
therefore i may not
are you awake?
sleep sweetly in your humble graves
i am dying
it was a tall young oysterman
noises that strive to tear