A harpoon, slung.
A fully extended arm
wrenched, wrung.
A torn muscle ripped.
(ripple)
blood flood.
Blubber and bible thumper,
rubber, wood and rust.
trajectory
arc–segment–chord
Thought and deed
carry my future.
Religion maddened by nature.
I am his downfall.
I am him.
Blowhole cry
ignites the icy sky.
Big Ape Diary 
This one is like thunder, Brian. It seems fitting
Hi Brian…I was stunned when I first read the tactile- ness in this (and I read it over many times and again this morning) The language is so spare, weighed letter by letter, compressed, almost like a manual or a documentary commentary. and the last stanza….
I like you like, Jana. This had been slooshing around for six years, before I got the life belt out and rescued it yesterday. I dragged it in, wrung it out and dried it by the fire. It reminds me why I throw very little away, when the mind-space comes and fits everything has its time.
Extraordinary prose Brian thank you – I recently re-read Edinger’s Moby Dick, an American Nekyia, which brought out your themes. You managed to do this in a few words.