From the Fishouse

Hunched in a thimble, I wept. Mercy.
Once blotted out trees. Well.
Made some second-guess me. Speak.
Ought not act so ugly.
Said—
Ought not act so ugly.
Hunched in a thimble, I wept. Yes, yes.
Won’t make no apologies. Naw, Sir.
Who will take on this burden?
Ought not walk alone.
Said—
Ought not walk alone.
In my sleep, I wandered.
Stitch, stitch, stitch, stitch, stitch.
That’s the way they do you.
Said—
That’s the way they do you.
Words can make a mountain.
Said—
Words can make a mountain.
No pulpits in the thimble.
Said—
No pulpits in the thimble.
Head—hah—
Head—hah—
Said—
Head, shoulders, knees & legwork.
Ought not act so ugly.
Ought not act so ugly.
Head, shoulders, knees & legwork.
No room for one more.
No room for one more.
Don’t go pray for me.
Don’t go pray for me.
No acres for want in a thimble.
Said—
No acres for want in a thimble.
All I could do was roll.
Said—All I could do was roll. Mm-hmm.
Stitch, stitch, stitch, stitch, stitch?
I know not what, I know not what.