Net-Man Blues

Hell, I’ve half-hitched myself to death: this
Around and through, around and through.
I must have knotted my way across the universe
A hanging at a time, line after line,

And worked my way back by some circuitous route
Mending my way across a vast web of space
Stitching string rhomboids between those stars
On this slow-rocket mending needle hand-haul.

Ah, but those nets they made by hand
Must have diced their minds neater
Than the flesh of a fisherman
Rolled up tightly onto his own drum.

:: John Skapsi, in Going for Coffee (1981)

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