Upswept, unmoored
In a night-boat, glimmering,
Torch-lit and lifted on the dizzying tide
Of Stevenson's imagination.
Treasure Island caged the midnight fear -
Gruff murderous pirates, the vice of Blind Pew -
Spectral in solitude, whirled under hooves -
The painterly extravagance of nightmare.
O flattery of Hollywood!
Welcoming shout of American Poetry -
Limo, Freeway, the Lot - on Warner Boulevard
Magnesium light, an ominous migraine.
Rewrite man, washed up to write
At lamp-lit desk throughout the night,
Marooned where once the treasure lay,
A forehead-clutching castaway.
Cocaine, entrapment, lawyers, debt.
There is no gold. Reach bedrock, sweat,
Dumbfounded, as when Bill Bones finds
The Black Spot on his palm. Struck blind.
There's no escape. The dreamer, home,
Still hears Flint's haunting cry -
You're one of us - thus dead men taunt the dying.
An empty boat turns slowly on a grey lagoon
Gathering rain.
