scrawled note found in sketchbook

To you I offer my hull and the tattered cordage
of my will. The terrible channels where
the wind drives me against the brown lips
of the reeds are not all behind me. Yet
I trust the sanity of my vessel; and
if it sinks it may well be in answer
to the reasoning of the eternal voices
the waves which have kept me from reaching you.

-Frank O'Hara, from To the Harbormaster