I’m crossing the ocean today on a raft.
Theo’s dyslexic on The Cosby Show
as I eat kelp from the pigeonless, flopping waves.
Mercy’s fast as a pectoral slab and endurance presumes me.
     Dots all over the place.

I’m crossing the ocean today on a raft.
I’ve imposed food-sanctions until the swabs
resume working: passive mutiny’s born a full-grown
Yosemite Sam, the endpoint of negative capability.
     Coffee drips into the agar roar.

I’m crossing the ocean today on a raft.
A tiger-shark jumps into my breakfast
lobster-bisque. It’s ruined! The sun’s
my dad, wind pronounces my skin.
     Like Merle Haggard, the highway’s my home.

I’m crossing the ocean today on a raft.
Dawn, bales of chicken-wire, the Statue of Liberty,
vine-veined fence, charcoal, water lapping softly.
It’s scary to think that I’ll be there by morning.
     The sky’s blue, the water’s blue.

I’m crossing the ocean today on a raft.
Another island another gas-meter,
I land a whale the raft can’t hold.
Ambergris’s just blubber without capital.
     God, if you have immunity, blow.