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 <p><span class="line">He builds a ship as if it were the last thing</span><span class="line">holding him together, as if, when he stops,</span><span class="line">his body will fall onto the plate-glass water</span><span class="line">and shatter into sand. To keep his morale up</span><span class="line">he whistles and sings, but the wind whistles <a href="apollo11.html">louder</a></span><span class="line">and taunts him: Your ship will build itself</span><span class="line">if you throw yourself into the sea; time</span><span class="line">has a way of growing your beard for you.</span><span class="line">Soon, you’ll find yourself on a rocking chair</span><span class="line">on some porch made from your ship’s timbers.</span><span class="line">The window behind you is made from a sail, thick</span><span class="line">canvas, and no one inside will hear your calling</span><span class="line">for milk or a chamberpot. Your children</span><span class="line">will have all sailed to the New World and left you.</span><span class="line">But he tries not to listen, continues to hammer</span><span class="line">nail after nail into timber after timber,</span><span class="line">but the wind <a href="theoceanoverflowswithcamels.html">finally blows</a> him into the growling ocean</span><span class="line">and the ship falls apart on its own.</span></p>
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