VII.
“From where their ship”
From where their ship has dropped its
anchor
seamen stare across the calm harbor—
they consider each unknown thing
hidden beneath the blue green
surface scored by storm
leagues above the mar of worm.
Dreaming of treasure to salvage
should they will the plunge
to the bottom of the fatal
inescapable sink of bubble—
as these shipmen conceive the whirlpool,
the tempest and the white whale—
what depth achieves the relentless
creature burrowing in dark abyss—
so too do I find fathomless
the burden of human consciousness.
I steal from better writers.
Immortal authors.
My mother who would say
I see God
as a huge ball of love.
My mother who would say
Sex is between
a woman and a man.
My mother who would say
I wish you and me
could leave.
My mother who would say
It’s the everyday
makes a man insane—
love it anyway.
…
Andrew Tye is from a town named Temple. He believes all humans are poets. He performs his forthcoming book My Son as a one-man show in NYC. He aims to share the book and the show with national audiences.