I was in Asia Minor
in pursuit of distant honor
in a suit of finest armor
in a forest of pine or
planks.  I was not lost.  Regina
(my sextant) stared into our refiner’s
flare as evening grew maligner.

     I was in Kazakhstan
     collecting rarest poppies. My capstan
     gave out.  I could no more withstand
     the tides than fall to the rattan
     mat like Tristan
     sailing emptily to his mutant
     island.

          I was in greater Ghana
          harvesting marijuana
          with soul-strafing Tatiana,
          the local swan—a
          mortal one, a
          prize among the fauna.
          (There should have been a lawn a-

               gainst her.)  You see, I was in Corinth
               fabricating synth-
               etic absinthe.
               I was adamant. The
               trophy I chased for the ninth
               night of days was Cynth
               -ia, succumbing at the plinth.

          Then to Argentina
          I set forth with Ekaterina
          a diminishing ballerina.
          She pled for fina-
          steride, having seen a
          parrot turn bright green u-
          pon my mythic ocarina.

     I was in Tel Aviv.
     Viv-
     ian (my pigeon) and I were feve
     -rish from bouts of griev-
     ous liv-
     er malaise.  We must have been naive
     -r than a hibernal beave

-r, for soon I was in Canada
as ever.  Had no plan; not a
home to hide in, nothing human.  Ada
(vulgar bird) went wan, bade a
screeching goodnight to her one God, a
soapstone strap-on.  Alone, I ran a do-
zen tests:  None truer, none sadder.