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North Sea Ruins by Jay Heath - St. Andrews Castle, Scotland

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n o r t h   s e a   t y g e r

- dedicated to Chris Thornton

b y    m a r k   m u r p h y

I thought about death, then,
as though, his dying
was an event of little majesty.
Gone was the splendid beard
of Cannery Row, gone
the coffin ships of the North Sea.
Gone too, the survivor’s story
of blood stained hands.
He had wanted nothing less
than glory on the high seas,
but death came, bald-faced
death in breathless morning.
Gone, then, the gnashing teeth,
the all conquering hero,
wild with rebel blood rolling –
the revolution’s steadfast son.
Gone the poet, gone the man,
then, who, then, who, to carry the van?



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