The whale (or, Ode to Kurt Cobain)

Faith of the whale, explorer of dark waters

Feared by life’s sailors, rises to the surface

to sing his eternal song.

On a moonlight’s ray, drifts his sad

condoleance. While the sailors sleep

and hear his song in their dreams.

Then grasped by a hand, pulled

to the shore. It’s being too heavy

For superficial life

And as he lays dying, still

always singing, His body

is already being divided

While they carry his parts

To their concrete cities, nothing

remains, but the myth of his song.