My feet
Are pirates.
My arms
Are pilots.
My head
Is a checkout line
For daffodils.
My lungs
Are fine pastries
Of blue sky.
Me walking
Like a song
Along the railroad
Lines.
My hands
Are roller rinks
Of sunsets.
How can what’s finite
Fill the infinite?
What’s infinite fit
Inside the finite?
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naïve haircuts 
Ah yes, an excellent poem asking excellent questions…
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Thank you!
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Wonderful, as usual. And I especially like the line about standing in a checkout line for daffodils. Not a bad piece to have one’s thoughts!
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Thanks, Diane! I agree about the daffodils! Glad you enjoyed this one.
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those last lines are like those ships surrounded by glass and there’s no way the ship coulda been stuffed inside the glass and no way the glass was built around the ship and so in the end it’s all a miracle….and the other lines of the poem are truly wonderful, to give so much life, so much varied life to describe the human body, the organs and appendages, well, it’s both brilliant and comforting to think of us as part of something so much more than blood and bones, but even that is great too, but lungs as pastries….i prefer that
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Thanks, Steve. Glad you liked the ending. I was a bit unsure about the ending. Glad it worked. I love the idea about a glass boat. I wonder if it’s ever been done? I know they make boats with glass bottoms.
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boats are kind of freaky to begin with, being all alone at sea but then again land is the minority when it comes to earth, but back to boats…..yeh, being out there with all that weather and ocean life….i would request a 2 month supply of valium for a 2 week boat ride. canoes i think are more realistic.
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I’ve always wanted to take a boat ride across the Atlantic. But would be just as content on a canoe.
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i’m terrified of drowning and us land creatures seem to be at a big disadvantage with oceans all around us so as my mom used to say it behooves me to know about water, to at least learn how to doggy paddle to appreciate how hard it is to swim, but when i’m on a plane i don’t appreciate the miracle of a plane flying so i don’t freak out so maybe it could be the same on a boat, but the thing is a boat is so much closer to the bone, to the core survival water involved where as an airplane has ladies serving coffee!
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I’ve been on boats for small trips. But nothing like crossing an ocean. Maybe I’ll have second thoughts when I’m out there.
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So fabulous!!
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Thank you!!
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great question, Bob to some great lines : you like walking along railway lines a lot; heard a great train song the other day by Dolly, Linda and Emmylou: ‘A Hobo’s Meditation’
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Thanks John. I grew near rail road tracks, and I guess I find myself attracted to them still. I’m going to listen to A Hobo’s Meditation. It’s got to be good looking at that lineup of musicians.
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yes, give it a go, Bob 🙂 to me, it’s a revelation —
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I love this. Keats also loved daffodils. The final line, stanza are my most…favorite.
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Thank you!! Glad you liked the last stanza, those are the ones I was least sure about. Glad they worked!
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You have some shocking images here. I’m envious.
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Thanks. That’s high praise!
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don’t know about the last 4 lines, Bob: the rest, the imagery, the succinct phrasing are fantastic !!!
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Thanks, John! I was a little unsure of the ending. I did get some positive comments on it. But it did to me feel like a different poem.
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having another read, Bob: yes, those last four lines read like they’re the beginning or ending of another poem —
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I’ll let it marinate for a while. But I think eventually it will be its own poem.
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”My lungs / Are fine pastries / Of blue sky”…brilliant! I love the unique imagery in this poem.
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Thank you!!
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