the unheard-of sailing

Thu, 16 Jul 2026 18:36:11 +0800

beautifully at least are you, and you,
and we, even we, as we bow to the muse
from silence, to work, to make music.

for far more by you and her tresses of blue
shall we speak freely and fluently flow
round her sea-song, along with the leaf,

of what sort me and you happen to be
being, she sings and she whispers it slow,
an unheard-of sailing, through the distance.

but just now, were becalmed, were in irons.
which turn of the tide or twist of a rope,
which way of the wind, from Delos the boat,

by teeth of a goat on his own green grass,
how would we, under grey, manifesto for you
the impasse, the power, all her own.

cause shes full of it too. kompsos
like the chomp on her bridal-white jib
of a child, crocodile, laughing.

καλῶς γε σύ
ἦν δ᾽ ἐγ ώ
ποιῶν

μᾶλλον γάρ σοι
παρρησιάσομαι
περὶ τῆς ἐπῳδῆς
οἵα τυγχάνει οὖσα

ἄρτι δ᾽
ἠπόρουν τίνι τρόπῳ
σοι ἐνδειξαίμην
τὴν δύναμιν αὐτῆς

156α

Crocodiles on the valley below

the unheard-of sailing