The thing we must say first is that it’s blue;
Next I’d venture comment upon its size;
I fear to the ocean I’d bring nothing new
Without espousing some appalling lies.
But I’ve reasoned that lies can be for good,
And can, perhaps, point to our higher truths;
Those equestrian types would have me rude
If I dissembled not my hate of hooves.
And in this case my verbal reticence,
My sneaky sealing of opinion’s doors,
Shows that I’m conflict-shy (at the expense
Of my contempt for those who would talk horse).
So when I call the tide land’s fading kiss,
Just know there’s nothing in my verse amiss.
Shorter Poems 