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#172

22 Oct

High tide                   (new)

You can not imagine the world
being swallowed by the ocean
(your eyes see nothing but horizon
expanding, expanding)
and breaking waves
don’t make you sad

But I speak
in the language of seashells–
lost sounds
abandoned on the shore–
and yesterday clings to me
like seaweed strands

When waves attack the sandpipers
picking in the wet sand
you laugh as they all scurry up the beach
and I quietly hope
that one of them
chooses to just fly away

 
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Posted by on October 22, 2013 in new poetry

 

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