Alice At Sea
“That’s odd,” she said, Alice at sea,
“The wise man is a compass for me.”
The white whale went about the boat,
And in her journal Alice wrote:
The seas never end and a feather is red,
Blood, saltwater, and stench of the dead.
Days and nights and weeks and forts,
Hidden castles underneath the ports.
Islands sank, the boat never docked
Aside the deaf and dumb rocks.
Seagull call upon the lot,
Death acquaint the squawking mock.
She rests beside the hull, all lost,
Contemplating the lesson taught.
(2012)
Something I plan to expand on, turn into a Lewis Carrol style nonsensical poem.
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