Robinson Crusoe Who Was a Poet

Robinson Crusoe Who Was a Poet · Lynn Emanuel I gather bottles in my net— an old boot— by these signs I know this harbor where the currents cross and recross and nothing moors— except the unfamiliar: regret and longing, those flowers in their rude vases, and the beds of seedlings filled with secrets like the iron box I once dreamt of hinged and clasped, even now: the tide lays down its wet throat and alters the land to island—even as I watch I say, "There is no shore apart from stories of it," no smoke, no hut, no beacon—I say I am a sailor on a dark deck who repudiates a simple going home to a world of ordinary things. 44 · The Missouri Review ...