Sunday, September 25, 2011

fishing

blind cliff, water hears
its rock and its roots

hears the cliff nest
boils it in milk

hears the pink lace decaying
boils it in milk

sea-mews unheard go
into the jaws

the jaws milk the sky,
melt it to a yolk,

yolk at the eyes and the feet
gripping silver tear yellow

hollow in the sea
for spilled morning

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