Sunday, June 27, 2010

salt is intensity I lick my hand, teeth are
the ends of me grinding down the black-
speck sand, the birds here are angrier
sun is angrier, my skin here not my skin
as it is elsewhere but rawer and more
clearly a form of prophylaxis, where is
the barrier to keep water separate from
my harm I burn to ask a meaning gull

there are no meaning gulls or tomorrows

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