[Erik Olson]

To See the Sea

Cousin, dismiss, nor catch the lust for sea!
I had the sense when first the sails unfurled,
To hate its ‘life’: ‘A VOYAGE ROUND THE WORLD’
Lures droves to anchor in captivity.
What crowds! A sailor’s happiness? A brute's
Is, think all sensuality, fresh meats!
No earth bears features, bosomy whores, fruits . . .
Round untouched air, we cleave the watery sheets;
But ‘midst the desert vices root with urges.
In Hobbesian savage states, some bite raw gulls.
The finny race keep under breaking surges;
We’re cramped on-board, blind viewless barnacles.
Our courage must work like machinery;
Death points to sea, sole point to see the sea.
g