I am the I-click Marco Polo
Of this the open sea
I am the non-stop seagull
Confirming my territory
There is no end to my belligerence
Or my lack of dignity
Though I am thankful for the sparrow
Which appears to be on a par with me
A going nowhere Friday afternoon
Lost in that, the thoughtless haze
Of approaching rearrangements
Of that, the life as it once was known
In search of near calamity
Or for ceramics made in the rain
On the podium for past reality
With a look-out to the claim
