The SLAM! Green Room

As a devotee of bad poetry, I would like to introduce this poem to our august crowd. (Some of you have undoubtedly already read it, but hey it's got mythical stuff all the way through!!)

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Our love is like a boat, a ship, okay, a boat.
You are like my admiral or pretty petty officer.
You hold my heart among the dunnage, dungeoned
in the boat-basement of our home waters.
You have shackled me with a chain of ropes,
you tickle with masty glee my dry docks.
Burning hempen ropes rise to fill the tops’l of my nostril.
On the bounding main I am mainly bound by bonds
of your love, which you harbor for me.
I embrace the pain of your loving knots
for you have tied them sternly, sweet sailor,
woven me with netty fingers and piping of the pipe.
My portal of perception is a porthole portrait
of you, an island drifting forever on the tidal reeves,
and I ache to drag an anchor there.
You are my siren in the night,
you assail the sensitive seas, the anemones of my continent.
I shred, I shred in the eyelid of your storm,
I am kelped and floating…
in the flotsam of your heart


Dale Arthur

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