Saturday, January 29, 2011

Tide Pool Night

Every evening over by the wisher well he
Walked his well-wept dog and
Sang his radius of self-encompassed
His thoughts eclipsed the jug he
Fetched, and burst the close diameter of
With best intent he climbed the hill he
Stalked the greening of each day,
He juggled forth his flimsy life, his
His carpet wounds, his balance book and
Advice, and yet his loose-hung limbs

Rescinded, gave him away, and kept him
Glinting through the noonday still. And
When the tide pulled in, the rocks
Exposed beyond the wayward
Sticks and mud, the sandy strewn
With broken shells and sabbaths
Conquered by the
The ruined vesicles of animals
That shrunk and dried upon the shore,
That midnight creeping inward
Thick, astonished him and drunk the
Life from him and
Left him nothing further to

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