The Offing

Into the ocean.
Into the torrent, tepid offing
I’ll stay my anchor, my stolid offering.
and live out my fervent scoffing

…and cursing! Don’t forget cursing!

No torrid motion.
Fate, as a mistress, is innocent,
and this is merely consequence.
The price of my tumid ignorance

…and vanity! Don’t forget vanity!

This is devotion.
This is reconciliation flagrantly shown,
crowned, kinged, and torpidly enthroned.
The wine-dark sepulcher sea will be home

…and grave! Don’t forget grave!

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