Frank Corcoran

Whence swims up courage, dignity, hypothomotic longings? A constant cloud of self-manufactured and manufacturing value, the mythic meaning that exudes from submarine us in the deep water ? What sure surrender or recommended swoon towards which cosmic swindle , my glass only half full ? Every twenty minutes up we go for air, then dive, let off the hook, neither I nor Me nor You ; quick, we have but a a sea-sprayed second, a quick wash.Do I pick up a finny hesitancy? Under the rocks´shadows something´s fishy. ( Fish eats sea-snake. Davy Jones died hard. His five fathoms. )