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My despair is finally broken now,
a bird I sing outside your window
conjures exile from the day's
elaborate gate. The sea's
tremendous vein
of surface wreckage knots the shore's
smooth wood, calligraphic ropes,
plastic bottles weed, scale & intellect
pastured out in hammer tides.
I wander thru it, one eye
blown toward the rim of hope,
another rolling round my swollen
feet like a diagram of love
glancing to the sky, the sea, the clamour grain.
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