Odor of death everywhere. You're on a ship and they're serving you rotten meat, maggots crawling in it. Which reminds me of the Stanislavsky film set in Russia where the mates take over and cut the captain and his men into little pieces and drop them in the ocean of Albert Ryder's bad eyesight -- a view unexpected. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BACON'S EPITAPH, MADE BY HIS MAN by JOHN COTTON (1640-1699) TO DOCTOR EMPIRIC by BEN JONSON SONNET: HENRY HOWARD BROWNELL by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE OUTCAST by HELEN MCCRORY ARENDELL IN MEMORY OF DOCTOR DONNE by R. B. THE LOOSED DRYAD by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |