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Navigators By Robert James Berry Craggedness raised at me The white rage of snow My neck crick with looking up Rockfaces glint quartz and trees Trees to mast and prow ships The headlands part Like knees opening We're borne into ocean Tacking north At the sky's keel The sun is bisected and Hung like a bleeding rag Night. The stars tug our heels Tomorrow the swell will frost We shall plow splinters of ice Men set like wolfhounds For a wrinkle of coast Our sharp seasick faces rigid Till we have hunted and Hauled on deck The jawbone of north |
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Document last modified on: 01/06/2007