Grimbeau

Four no rule,

no measure years,

just got back mid-morning:

soft landing,

natives just the same, not me;

too much time to think, you see,

so everything is good or bad up there.

Back with a head full of seaweed, razor

whale gore,

syphilis and carnage. Whodunit?

Ask the guy in the looking glass. He say:

Author of your own destruction

with a little help from your

acknowledgements.

Left is right.

Right is left.

No turning back

You know too much