my friend sent me a raft
i guess he thought i was
drowning and about that
he might have been right
but we’re not going there
yet until we just give up
underwear under worn
neatly stacked in closet
the books i was going
to read but just gave up
perfect bound a few
embroidered sewn
the poem is a scroll
down and down and
under we go silver
twist threaded flax
and the songs i was
going to sing and play
as guitar sounds waft
up up up and away
this raft i’m now on
drifts slowly by your
jolly yawls i am not
not drowning refrain
the waves i almost
caught but tired
of paddling for those
and this i lost at sea
my friend gave me a raft
i guess he thinks I am
drowning and about this
he may be abeam
The Coming of the Toads 