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Jun 2012
Looking down at empty pale feet
Pure crystal water
Kissing the gaunt quivering toes
Like tiny nipping lips

An intoxicating dewy tickle
Replenishes the ulcerated legs

Thin iced glass brushes the face
Coating it in a soft chilled frost

Salty needles pinch the eyes
Making vision blurry yet refreshed

To blink would be a miss
A loss of excessive sight
An immense beauty gone

A crawling land of beryl
A saturated endless terrene
An ocean
I went on a trip to Florida for business.  I didn't get to go in the ocean, but I got to look at it.  This is what my mind was imagining.
Paul Celano
Written by
Paul Celano
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   ---, CA Guilfoyle and ---
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