“Poor Fellow”
Open to sea-lanes upon a coast
Lies another sailor with tools for host,
Given to day, on a holy watch
By pillars over reproaching along this match-
Foreign money in coins Canadian and Mexican,
Turning up pockets in jacket form with sand
Concerning depth of space under thin atmosphere
When fantasizing obscure means towards beer.
It’s a parade, it’s a soup- obstacles close
Nearing a swerve in crossed exchange of loss.
He’s churning of passion upon the brink of mad taste,
For what’s dramatic toil inside a realm of haste:
Sober only when counting, particular to Greek dance,
And, crazy nuts, gearing conflict around opposite romance.
https://www.deviantart.com/gameuniverso/art/Poor-Fellow-829247251
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