nothing’s further than horizon
on a day at sea

line beyond humps of swells
storm surge nil
as sea slaps hull

wide crisp ring
or noose

incision made in gray and gray
between realms of high and low
a rift we never breach
but always keep our eyes on

a ledge we never reach
the prey we never catch
a shore without a beach
a gate without a latch

horizon is tight-lipped
and taut as a lute string
strung from zip to zip
distant as a hoax
a hold we never grip

by Jim Culleny 9/7/12



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