Paleface
Old Sawbones, pale as a sheet, white sand, whispering edge of the sea. II The mind tarries not one place long, (longitudinal wanderings off a map). Is shiftless, both a shirker (and army deserter) devours like larvae, a bullet ledge for leaves. III I saw in a rusty tankard a gallon drum (ghostly galleon at that), a tin can floating for all the world shores of its alkaline prison, pirating salinity with anchoring sounds, brackish bench-pressed sound of waves wedged between far-off distant gulls and mezzanine, dimly-lit funeral parlour of the sun.
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"Old Sawbones, pale as a sheet,..."
Paul Cameron Brown's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "Paleface"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...