Golden Age

What do you call that Far East Asian ancient sailboat?

The one that’s always amber-orange and silhouetted, multiple masts

Sailing slowly but deliberately to anywhere but here

Help me because I can’t think

What, with all the noise in my head, contemplating your silence

Your confident cowardice

What do you call it

I want to hitch a ride to anywhere but here


No — what do you call it?


Do you wish it weren’t so blue
Or even bluer still 
Are you wondering just how vast
And just how deep the thrill
If you stripped off the leather 
With the stigma of our skin
And charged, full speed, down that Great Bluff
Reversing that Great Sin