The itchy sea,
being eternally discomfited,
seeks an original arrangement
which might restore its calm,
though with each adjustment
it leaves that resolution further behind.
And the thickish, strewn and ravelled
wind which we imagine blown
is sucked towards the spools on which
it would be kempt and reeled,
as a man is shevelled red and raw
about the brittle sticks of him.