Sailor Poet?

"Poets who read their work in public may have other unsavory habits." R. A. Heinlein, "The Notebooks of Lazarus Long"

You spend any amount of time at sea and something happens to your (in my case already febrile) imagination.

Maybe it has to do with the immensity of the oceans. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you can see the ugly brown bar of a typhoon boiling up over the horizon and headed straight at you.

Maybe you're just bored out of your skull.

But if you've got more than six brain cells (barely, in my case,) the immensity of the seascape surrounding you somehow seeps into the creative (did I mention febrile?) part of your brain. Some sailors turn to video games. Some turn to bull sessions. Others turn toward daydreaming about girls/guys (don't ask, don't tell).

I started "channeling" some sort of rhyming demon from an alternate universe. What you'll see here is the end result of that ongoing, cross-dimensional interface. Please be kind to those of us of the "semi-elderly" persuasion.

As Kathy says, I'm mostly harmless ... except when I'm not.