The schooner is forty-eight feet long.
I am in the custody
Of a quince-paste of questions and quotations.
I will cover up the entrance
To the globe room.
The globe, across which schooners race
In several circles
Globes spinning and wobbling in the captains'
Quarters, the captains playing quarters
Over the radio, the fog
Project they are undertaking
Underwritten by a poisoner.
We have our roles to play.
Thousands of hazelnuts skid across the deck.
