ISHMAEL AND HIS FRIEND QUEEQUEG
" ... the soul cannot be hidden from he who sees with the heart."
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Chapter 1 Looming
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Whenever it is a damp, drizzly
November in my soul . . .
whenever nothing pleases me,
when what sufficed only yesterday
chafes today,
I am drawn to, yea, seduced by,
the nearest body of water,
by my own ungraspable image
beyond which lie
worlds and adventures
I have only dreamed of
to sweep away the
daily drudgery of practicality.
Oh, to be a simple sailor,
afloat and adrift,
and get paid for it, too.
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Chapter 2 – The Carpet Bag
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Unencumbered,
I head for
a fine, boisterous something
only found in Nantucket.
A room at the inn costs
a pretty penny, but there are
no pennies to be had,
no refuge but one’s own self,
no windows but one’s own eyes.
So when the timing is off and
life makes us wait
we scrap the ice
from our frosted feet
and we
keep
on
going.
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Chapter 3 – The Spouter Inn
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Pitch-black and frigid,
the inhospitable night pushes me
toward the only affordable light in sight -
an inn as cold as the curb.
One inside, frozen hands
clutch scalding tea
and then -
Good heavens!
dumplings for supper!
A knobby bench in a
blowy corner leaves
no option but bedding down
with a complete stranger – a
clean, comely looking cannibal,
not nearly so bad as
a drunken Christian.
Chapter 4 – The Counterpane
Colored glass
shimmers
and casts rainbows
on a form needing
no further ornamentation:
Queequeg.
Wrap your lips around it
and say it again:
Queequeg.
Not a bird call but a name:
Queequeg.
Dark, purplish face,
a torrent of tattoos,
tomahawk at the ready -
I tremble!
And yet, dare I say . . .
Queequeg.
Balm to a lonely soul.
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Ch. 7 – The Chapel
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I duck inside
to take refuge.
Here, where moody fishermen
pay their respects
before they sail,
I am protected
from the wind and sleet
but not from thoughts
of what lies ahead.
Words etched in marble
line the walls
to pay homage
to dear departed sailors:
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John Talbot ~ Lost overboard
near the Isle of Desolation
(Keep your eyes on the preacher.)
Captain Ezekial Hardy ~ Killed by a Sperm Whale
on the coast of Japan
(Don't look at the walls.)
The Ship Eliza ~
Towed out of sight by a whale
(I will go to sea. I will go to sea.)
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Chapter 10 – A Bosom Friend
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Love knows no rules,
follows no pre-prescribed path.
To look at a man and
see him – truly see him –
past culture’s artifice,
past skin and bone,
you find that the soul
cannot be hidden
from one who sees
with the heart.
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Chapter 11 – Nightgown
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I nudge my nose above
my cozy cocoon into
the frigid air,
then smile and duck back
under the warm covers
I share with my friend.
Close comfort
and camaraderie
seem ever more dear
following
the utter lack of them.
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Chapter 12 – Biographical
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What tells
the measure of a man?
His roots,
dreams,
disappointments,
his religion
or lack of?
Queequeg,
not from Cape Cod
but the South Seas,
is pure of heart and
cannot be sullied.
And although surrounded
by greed and dishonesty
he floats above them,
and remains untouched
in his innocence.
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Chapter 13 – Wheelbarrow
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Hail Queequeg!
From scoundrel to hero,
from outsider to
trusted comrade –
all in fifteen minutes flat!
Hail the blasted weather,
come in the nick of time.
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Chapter 18 – His Mark
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Queequeg is a member of
the great and everlasting
First Congregation of this
whole worshipping world,
Ishmael insists
to the doubtful Peleg.
But whether skylarking or not,
what does it matter?
Queequeg’s harpoon decimates
its target and makes
the entire conversation moot.
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