how a resurrection really feels.

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Sun on
water, I’m just another

mug on a ship—there’s only
forward motion,
never settling,

my name like something
I outgrew. The sea pulls
each syllable of my poems

into a whale’s belly. Home,
a sound of waves
thinly moving away. I need

no address cage. Let
my poems call and call.
I hear only gulls.

- Kenneth Pobo, excerpt from Arthur Rimbaud, Gun Runner (via holdonmagnolia)

(Source: decompmagazine.com)