Article 1

a cup-of

&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp  poems found in Francis Chichester’s Alone Across the
&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp  Atlantic (Garden City: Doubleday & Co., 1961)





a weep
at the forehatch

over
my berth

~


thank heaven
& martin tickell
for the trysail

~


take off my boots
& trousers together

& put them on
together next time

~


hullo —
she’s tacked
herself

& boxes
the compass
again


~

now for a cup-of
& position-fixing
by radio beacons


~

1630 hrs

written
over

a cup
of tea

in
a bag

which you
hang

in the
cup
& pour

water
on


~

found to my
astonishment

yesterday
was friday


~

dropped
my barometer
tonight

& bust it
an old friend


~

lost the red
gash bucket
overboard

looked very cocky
sitting scarlet
on the surface

sorry
to see
it go


~

no
vital
parts

washed
over
board


~

knowing exactly where
is not so essential
in the mid-Atlantic


~

a kettle flies across the cabin