From the first two pages of "The Spouter Inn"

gable-ended Inn, condemned old craft.
large oil-painting so thoroughly defaced,
understand its unaccountable mass
shades that you almost delineate

But what most puzzled and confounded you
was a long, limber, portentous black mass
of something hovering in the centre blue,
dim, nameless yeast. A squitchy nervous tract.

—It's the Black Sea. —It's the four elements.
—It's a Hyperborean winter scene.
—a faint resemblance to a giant fish?
a Cape-Horner in a great hurricane;

half-foundered with its three dismantled masts
a whale, impaling himself upon the mast

Wizards vs. Lesbians did Moby Dick! (their justifications for it were as dumb as you'd expect.) Listening affirmed my feelings that any good poetry I dig out of here is cuz I started with good materials. It's Melville's sandbox and I'm just playing in it, etc. etc. But fwiw I like today's poem a lot :)