Can we take the time to get it right?
I’m a cut-and-paste poet; I’ll fake it til I know it, I’m a new world seamstress in wanton distress, ripping open my own sleek silk dress, a cast away in the middle of this busy port, too mad with love or longing to stem the losses or stop the reports, watching my ships sail in and out again, my women crying after their missing men, my steamboats running upriver, heavy with rum and gun runners, dirty with brand new money, and tired old honies, wheels churning and pouring in a liquid roar, I’m a freedom fighter in this endless war, I’m a sweet English captain with a raw pirate crew, I am me and I am you.
