keith o'shaughnessy

The Woman of Many Whiles

Penelope, shell of an echo,
Pines to Poseidon for her hero,
And still the tide cries widow, widow.
Horizons coastlines over-shadow;
With each gulfed stream, tropical billow,
Crafts sound the idyll of Kalypso,
Where brined airs, isled by strait and narrow,
To hog-tied swine with ears of tallow

The Naughty Grotto