A drunken wind tonight
wild with whiskey delight
bloviator off the sea.
I was sitting on a whitecap
when the Angel Whale surfaced
lifting me in a spew of salt.
Gin and it shall blow for three
days the weatherman foretold
and the audience grew cold.
To each their own way
wandering opinions
like birds molting feathers.
Until naked a soul astray
thy neck a tower of ivory
thy ears porcelain shells
eyes periwinkles hair oily
seawrack washed ashore
an animal bush or tree.
The Coming of the Toads 