“Sea Song” by Robert Wyatt
Oh dearest mutant love, born nymph-fish in suburbs of tide, emerge diurnal and inebriate sea dreams we slept soft in oblivious harbors. Let’s kneel in the drowned house, where everything hinges on the moon and similar lunacies divine a love. There are still words like “lagoon,” which mean places I have not been and only associate with colors I imagined as a child, much like the sea-hue of your skin. If torn, we regenerate as starfish grow again out of themselves, beneath undisclosed rocks in still pools. I’m conscious of the melody breath makes when it’s caught escaping in green clouds wafting inland. We’ll sing the luminous curiosities of your form into the nocturne chantey synthesized in my dry, waking hours.
Jarrod Annis has been called a poet, a paisley lumberjack, and a member of the Lunar Light Orchestra. He is an associate editor at Ugly Duckling Presse. His work has appeared in Greetings, Poems By Sunday, and Leveler. He currently resides in Brooklyn, NY.
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Contact Jackie Clark: jackie [at] coldfrontmag [dot] com.
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